


Quiet Courage (or the darkness within)

by Dialux



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, LOTS AND LOTS OF VIOLENCE, Manipulation, Possession, but trying for a maybe-not-quite-there happy ending, double-crosses, hidden agendas, i don't even know who's who anymore, people trying to be robots, robots trying to be people, triple-crosses, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:30:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 87,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialux/pseuds/Dialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mission City blew up, Megatron was drowned. His body was killed- but beings are more than the sum of their physical states. His soul finds a young girl in Tranquility and they bond. </p><p>Yet where is the line, between machine and human? How can the world change when one job is not finished? And to the Decepticons, Autobots, and humans: how does one define good, and what is unspeakably evil?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a change is coming

**In one universe, Megatron went insane.**

**Thousands died under his hands; the entire way of life of Cybertronians was destroyed. Optimus Prime and his fellow Autobots fought against him, and Megatron was finally felled on the Planet Earth.**

**...**

**In another universe, Megatron went insane.**

**Thousands died under his hands; the entire way of life of Cybertronians was destroyed. Optimus Prime and his fellow Autobots fought against him, and Megatron was finally felled on the Planet Earth.**

**Except- after his death, a small part remained. And that part… had all the processes of a living, breathing Megatron. Even more, the virus that had** **_caused_ ** **his insanity in the first place disappeared.**

**Thus, as a living Megatron on the verge of death, he did what any true Decepticon would do.**

**He reached out, and latched onto the first life form that could support his life and accept him.**

**That it was an earthling femme wasn't his fault, truly.**

**...**

She'd had dreams for the past several months.

They were vague, frightening. Flashes of sound and color, then… nothing. As if everything was cut off and forced away; the screams she was sure tore from her throat during the night weren't even mentioned by her parents. They commented on her appearance- gradually wearing down after  _months_ of ruined sleep- and her faltering grades, but didn't mention the nights at all.

And Evelyn wasn't quite suicidal enough to ask them for help.

She might have been going insane, but at least not during the day. Sunlight seemed to blaze away her nightmares, and that assured her that what she was going through was just stress.

At least, that was until she saw the yellow Camaro in the school parking lot.

Memories, of worry and…  _fear?-_ coursed through her system, and she nearly vomited at the sudden flood.

_::I am sorry::_ a strange voice echoed in her head. :: _I did not mean to hurt you.::_

Silence, and then she was hyperventilating, stumbling back to her car in a vain attempt to stop the shock.

_I just heard a voice in my head. That's it- I'm insane!_

_::No! You're not!::_ The voice retreated, slightly, before mentally sighing. :: _There's a lot that you… don't know. Could you go to the nurse? I believe revealing these secrets will be better done in a more- private- location.::_

Her hands continued to shake. :: _Right, like I'll listen to the random voice in my_  head!:: _  
_

_::Please. It is necessary.::_

And with that, the voice faded completely.

Anger warred with terror, and curiosity won. Evelyn couldn't deny that she was curious- and the voice's desperation was melded with a true note of fear. It  _feared_ her actions, and she wanted to know more.

Sighing, she contemplated her situation. She was a good student- not the best, but certainly not the worst. And her reputation for following the rules was matched by none…

Time to use that to her advantage.

Throughout the first period, she had a splitting headache; it lessened when she walked into the sunlight, but not by much.

It wasn't hard at all to fake a mini-convulsion a few minutes later, and she was on her way to the nurse's office.

Clammy hands trembled against the too-warm surface of her jumper, but it was too late to second-guess herself. The check-up was routine, according to the nurse- and the results revealed nothing more than a low-grade fever.

The walk to the parking lot was tiring, especially when she caught sight of the yellow car again. Her migraine increased exponentially, and she barely managed to stop herself at a grimace; the drive home was not as hard, however- the car seemed to drive itself.

Sitting on her sofa, she waited in silence, before mentally poking at the voice. :: _Are you there? I did what you asked, if you weren't aware…::_

_::I'm here.::_ The voice was formal, verging on distant. :: _And I am here to tell you about my past. It is not a pretty story; I think your people would compare me to… a man called_ Hitler?::

_::Explain.::_ She kept her words level, but only with an effort. What was this-  _voice-_ thinking, infiltrating her mind?

_::Well, it all started a long time ago, on another land called Cybertron…::_

_..._

_::Okay.::_ There were so many times when she was glad she wasn't an idiot. Screaming and running around about the voice in her head- as she'd been tempted to do that morning- wouldn't have helped anything. And even if she  _did_ have the equivalent of an alien Hitler in her mind, his insanity was gone.

Not that she'd taken his word for it; she'd swept through his memories as invasively as she could.

Apologizing later for that had been necessary, but her peace of mind was even more so. If she couldn't trust him-  _Megatron-_ then how could she do what needed to be done? What he  _wanted_ done?

_::You need to talk to the yellow Camaro as soon as possible::_ he told her seriously. :: _He will be our ticket into their compound.::_

_::And why did you want to go visit them?::_ She asked archly. :: _You're their eternal enemy. You…::_ she trailed off, unable to form the words.

_::I'm aware. However, I do not wish to be attached to your body forever. Even more so, I want to stop the war. And my Decepticons will never stop, not unless I give them orders.::_

_::There's something else, isn't there?::_ She asked suspiciously.

The voice shifted, and she winced back. His appearance would take some getting used to. :: _Yes. I have other… issues to take care of. In our society::_ he explained quietly, :: _t_ _hose who… kill, I believe you call it- can only be revived if the killer makes amends. And I can only do that over their body.::_

Evelyn sighed. :: _This will take a long time::_ she warned him. :: _I_ _'m not getting into that whole mess unprepared. I want to lay a foundation before I act. So I'll need your memories of the Autobots.::_

_::I knew there was a reason I chose you, earthling.::_

...

Interaction between Samuel Witwicky and Bumblebee was sketchy at best. Sam had turned into a loner, after his disappearance from school, only interacting with Mikaela Banes and his other friend Miles. Speaking directly to the car was out of the question, leaving her stumped and frustrated.

_::If you cannot speak to them::_ Megatron rumbled, suddenly,  _::t_ _hen get_ them  _to speak to_ you.::

A brilliant idea. If she only knew how to do that…

And then she did.

_::They're suspicious, aren't they?::_ She asked him excitedly. :: _Then we can make ourselves act_ suspicious  _in front of them! They'll want to talk to me. And if you send out proper 'signals' to change his programming subtly- we'll have a foolproof plan!::_

_::That, earthling::_ Megatron pronounced flatly after a full minute of silence, :: _i_ _s one of the worst plans I've ever heard. And I had_ Starscream  _on my team.::_

Shuffling through his memories of Starscream, she snickered. :: _Fine. Did you happen to have a_ better  _plan?::_

A mental huff later, they were back to plotting.

_::I'm beginning to think that you were right. We need… to make_ them  _suspicious. Not try to initiate contact.::_

_::Ha! I was right!::_ Grinning, she returned to her homework.

...

The nightmares faded day by day, almost as if her acknowledgement of Megatron made the integration of their minds easier. Memories and knowledge he knew was used by her unconsciously; he was the same.

And Evelyn… was happy. Perhaps not comfortable, but certainly not terrified. The Decepticon was not… courteous. There were comments on so many things that left her red-faced and choking, but it was almost like having a close friend- one who knew your mind better than yourself.

Sarcastic and amusing by turns, he was slowly becoming a necessary part of her life. His impressive knowledge of math and science was  _brilliant_ in her classes; it opened up time for her to start to record Samuel Witwicky's schedule as well as Bumblebee's.

And her idea of drawing his attention to her- was not working. It drew  _everybody else's_ attention- there were rounds of good-natured teasing that left her blushing- but the worst part of all that was Megatron's reaction.

He'd  _scream_ in rage, an inherent hatred for mockery ingrained into his very soul. That day… had not been fun. She'd take a migraine- however- over fear; pain was infinitely less dangerous than suspicion.

Suspicion led to investigation. And investigation led to…  _death._

_Too bad I have a- former- megalomaniac in my head,_ she thought dryly.

_::What about me?::_ Megatron's voice was curious, and appeared out of nowhere.

_::Don't_ do  _that!::_

_::My apologies, I did not mean to startle you._ A brief hesitation,  _I noticed that you have many… sarcastic thoughts? Yet- they are the ones you avoid speaking the most.::_

Tamping down the rush of confusion- he'd actually paid enough attention to her thought-speech correlation to draw that conclusion?- she shrugged. :: _Yes.::_

A frown- :: _You are rather-_ different-  _when compared to all the other earthlings I have seen. Quieter, calmer.::_

_::I am? I wasn't aware of that.::_ She was being sarcastic, but the thought rang true.

_::Might I see… your memories? I know earthlings believe them private::_ He assured her hurriedly. :: _But… I would like to understand the differences.::_

Evelyn leaned back. She was… honestly floored by his reaction. Megatron could say what he wished- but she  _knew_ his thoughts. He could hear her loneliness, and was giving her a shoulder to cry on without appearing weak.

_::I have seen yours::_ she told him cautiously. :: _It is only fair that you see mine- especially if we are to inhabit the same body for much longer.::_

_::Your concept of fair is very generous, femme. I have… brought the war to your doorstep; I have effectively forced you to put your life on hold for me. My very_ existence  _in your head is a breach of pri-::_

_::You did what you had to do::_ she said quietly. :: _And what you went through- watching as your very body disobeyed your commands- it could drive_ anyone  _insane. When you were in control, you tried to save people. Is that not what matters?::_

He hummed. :: _The Autobots wouldn't agree.::_

_::You killed them- or tried to::_ she replied wryly.  _::I_ _don't think they will forgive you very easily.::_

A physical shudder, and memories of helpless rage washed over them. A millennia of killing; centuries of hatred and weakness, left Evelyn pale and Megatron shaking.

_::I always thought… that living for so long inured you to emotion::_ she whispered. :: _That immortality was a curse.::_

There was a brief pause, then he sighed, letting the scars fade slightly once more. :: _You humans are immortal compared to certain species on this planet , who only live for a day- a week. Does that mean you feel less than them?::_

_::I… don't know.::_ Her eyes narrowed, determination filling them. :: _But that is an interesting philosophy.::_

_::Do not be impressed. I was simply comparing something you could understand. While your species is certainly interesting, you only merit a few revolutions' worth of observation. After that-::_

_::Should I be insulted?::_ She deadpanned, and his deep chuckles left her feeling warm. :: _Go ahead and get started on going through my memories.::_

...

The femme was staring at him.

Again.

Bumblebee shuffled slightly along his frame, inching closer to Sam. It was… worrying, the amount of attention he'd been receiving from the same person over the past couple weeks. And he wanted to avoid as much trouble as possible.

"Sam," he said on the way home.

"Yeah?" There was a new weight on his shoulders; a knowledge of death and loss and grief that could only have come from war.

"Could you talk to a fem- a  _girl-_ in your school? Her designation is… Evelyn? Evelyn Monroe?"

Sam arched an eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

Bee sulked. "She's been staring at me, so-"

"Staring. She's staring at the gorgeous Camaro I have, and you think that's a bad thing?" Sam was disbelieving.

"Yes, Sam," He said patiently. "There are certain… extenuating circumstances for this one. So don't blow your top. Really. If she'd found something out- it can't hurt to  _talk_ to her. So…" And he wouldn't mention the Energon radiation he'd felt from her. Not at all.

"Fine. But you owe me, Bee!"

They drove in silence for the rest of the ride.

...

"Evelyn!" Sam lunged out, almost catching her shoulder.

Instead, he tugged on her elbow, scattering the two binders she'd been holding to the ground; it was almost instantly followed up with a sharp punch to his kidneys.

Doubled over and wheezing, she knew her eyes widened when she saw who it was.

"What. The.  _Hell?"_ He managed to choke out.

"You- I-" she sputtered back. "You  _attacked_ me!"

"No, I didn't!" He shot back. "And you  _punched_ me!"

She grimaced at his statement, but didn't deny it- not that she  _could._ "What did you want?" Eyes tightened for a brief moment before relaxing. "Before all  _this,_ I mean."

"Um…" Sam frowned in thought, still massaging his lower back. "Just… about my car. Mikaela told me that you were…  _staring_ at it, so um…" He trailed off.

Some part of her- a really,  _really_ small part- wanted to choke on her laughter. :: _Well, it's working::_ she commented. :: _They suspect something.::_

_::Be glad. I'd have gone_ insane  _if- He's asking if you want a ride! Pay attention, slag it!::_

_::I thought_ you  _were in charge of that::_ she grumbled back. :: _That punch was certainly fast. Studying jujitsu in your free time?::_

Aloud she asked, "A ride? That sounds wonderful. But…"

_::I swear to Primus, femme, if you refuse I'll personally_ defenestrate  _you.::_

Her lips twitched in response, though Sam didn't seem to notice. "But I have a ride today. Would Friday work for you?" :: _We need to be ready for them::_ she hissed at Megatron. :: _And if they feel the sam-::_

_::Pay attention!::_

"Sure," Sam said easily. "That sounds perfect!"

He walked away, shaking his head, and Evelyn leaned a head against her car, hands trembling. "We are  _so_ fucked," she breathed.

_..._

_::So… the reason why I refused today? Bee's suspicious of us. And if he takes us to their base- as I'm_ quite  _certain he will- we're screwed, because at home I'll be done for. My parents'll be so mad. We'll be killed and buried and-::_

_::I get the picture::_ he bit out.

_::Good. So- what's the plan? How do we attack it?::_

_::I think we're going to have to do a straight-on reveal. They'll never trust us otherwise.::_

_::WHAT!::_

...

Grinning inwardly, she asked, :: _Ready to completely freak Bee out?::_

Megatron shifted. :: _What?::_

Reaching forward, she began to tug at the lock that should have opened the trunk- a spot that Megatron had specifically told her was a ticklish spot for them. Vaguely aware of him choking on his laughter, and Bumblebee trying to squirm away- she had to force herself to remain calm and serious. Still… the mirth in her eyes seemed to overflow, until she finally took mercy on the poor Autobot.

"Sam? Do you mind popping the trunk? I think the handle's broken."

_::You've done it now::_ Megatron snickered. :: _He'll never forgive you.::_

She should have been laughing with him. But… there were  _so many_ things they hadn't considered. So many ways this could go wrong. And the person to pay the price-

-would be her.

_::Ready?::_ she asked quietly.

_::To tell the world what's going on… Don't tell me you're losing your nerve now, of all times!::_

She shrugged tensely. :: _Never claimed to be courageous. Never wanted to be a warrior, either.::_

_::War is not for everyone::_ he acknowledged slowly. :: _I_ _am sorry for taking that choice away from you.::_

_::I know. I… mourn that, that_ innocence.  _But injustice should be repaired. And if the only way to help you and your people is_ my  _sacrifice- I can live with that. What I don't know is if I could live with myself if I_ didn't  _help you.::_

_::Then let us play, earthling. It is time for the acting of your lifetime.::_

Moving smoothly, she slid into the passenger seat. "Tell me," she murmured, hands clammy against her jeans. "How have you been, Bumblebee?"

The screech of tiles on tar after a moment of pure, pure shock almost made her laugh.

...

"Who are you, human?" Bumblebee asked, voice grim.

Megatron didn't say a word in response. Poking him mentally- and getting no answer- she felt her heart rate pick up.

_Oh, great. I'll have to play it by ear. Too bad I'm the equivalent of_ deaf!  _This is my worst nightmare!_

"Just… a girl," she said softly.

_Remember, Evelyn. They're the_ good guys.  _As long as they don't suspect you have_ Megatron  _in your head- you'll be fine._

"Sam," Bumblebee announced after a moment of incredulous silence. "You are not as strange as I thought you were. All earthlings are crazy."

Ignoring him as best she could, Evelyn tried to remain calm- but she could feel the hysterics building.

_::Megatron? I need help here…::_

Still no response. She could feel him, though, waiting for something.

Then Sam responded to Bumblebee, the radio switched on, and she felt Megatron surge back into her mind. :: _I apologize::_ he grated out. :: _But all Cybertronians can identify Decepticon signatures. I don't know if he can feel me speaking to you.::_

Shock traced its icy fingers down her back. :: _You didn't tell me that before::_ she managed.

_::I… did not think of it. But if they find out what is going on-_ who I am-  _even Optimus will not hesitate to shoot me. And you, as well.::_

She shuddered. :: _I- I'm fifteen, Megatron. This- I'm not ready to die. Not for something this… different. I don't know anything about these- these_ mechs-  _apart from their_ war  _stats. They must have had something apart from-::_

_::They did::_ he told her seriously. :: _They all do. They are trusting and kind, honorable and good. They hold their morals above everything else- and that is something I believe you can value.::_ He smiled, slightly, and she felt the resulting twinge in her mind. :: _You say you never claimed to be courageous… but fighting- as you are- for fairness, in a terribly, frighteningly_ unfair  _universe- never… never doubt that that takes courage as well.::_

_::…Thank you.::_

And she  _was_ thankful. The confidence she knew she needed to pull off the act- to survive the next couple of days- was sorely lacking, and she was dangerously aware of it. That knowledge- of the darkness just around the corner- had always frightened her; she had never had nightmares as a child, but as she grew older there were simply  _more_ things to be afraid of.

God, she had been  _nine_ when she realized that there were more important things than death.

At nine, she'd been frightened out of her wits. Every shadow… every hole. Ruthlessly logical she might be, but her scant knowledge of nuclear weapons had sent skitters of fear down her spine every day. Her pride had saved her- her refusal to tell anyone her fears had let her live her life as ignorant of fear as possible in an age where the press of a button could destroy a city.

She'd faced her fears, and beaten them… or so she'd thought. Then a recovered megalomaniac slid into her mind, and all those hopes slid down the drain.

_Still. You aren't hyperventilating, yet. You can-_ maybe-  _survive this?_

And- they'd already been in the car for much longer than necessary. Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed when Bee had dropped Sam off, but she was still strapped into the car and they were in the desert.

They were heading to the Autobot center of operations.

_::You aren't going to die::_ Megatron interrupted her. :: _And nobody will injure your family. That- I can assure.::_

_::I wish I could believe that::_ she said wryly. :: _But you're only surviving in_ my head.  _If something happens to me- I don't know how you'd be able to survive.::_

He sighed. :: _I think it's time for the next bombshell.::_

_::Really?::_

_::Really.::_

"Mmm. Six autobots, isn't it?" She asked gently. "Since Megatron died, I mean-"

Her voice cut off when he skidded to a halt.

_Oh, great plan, Megatron. I'll be dead before we even_ get  _to the slagging base!_

" _Who are you?"_ Bumblebee thundered, and she felt all color drain from her face in response.

_::Evelyn? ::_ Megatron asked, when she didn't show any sign of responding.

It took every dreg of courage she had, to stop herself from slamming open the door and fleeing. Defiance and courage wasn't  _in her nature._ All she'd ever wanted was to lead a good, simple life. Now-

-"Let's go to your base," she said. "I'd prefer to say it just once."

Her hands were shaking, her mind bombarded with every sight and sound. Adrenaline was making her actually  _dizzy_ from the highs and lows of the day.

_::Evelyn-::_

_::Enough.::_ She snapped at Megatron. It was rude and impolite, she  _knew_ that. Except- terror held all social niceties hostage, and she couldn't remove that feeling from her gut. :: _You decided to play it by ear, but_ I'm  _the one who needs to do the most. So shut the slag up, and leave me alone!::_

He retreated quickly, leaving Evelyn alone in the car. And if she closed her eyes, she could imagine that there was nothing different about her day than any other; leaning a suddenly heavy head against the cool glass, she tried to forget everything she was surrendering with her actions.

...

The desert was cold outside of Bumblebee.

The cutting wind and empty wasteland was frightening on so many levels- they hardly needed the silence Bee had been exercising since his shout. She strongly suspected he was using his private comms to speak to Optimus, and it seemed she was right- the base was empty.

The only moving things she'd seen were two  _large_ mechs who held their guns pointed slightly away from her; they seemed to form an honor guard around her and Bee as they walked further in.

_::Sideswipe and Sunstreaker::_ Megatron told her. :: _Dangerous mechs-::_ the memory of the ruins they'd left in their wake hung in the air between them. :: _They shoot first, and ask questions later. As an enemy… don't shit with them. Their first allegiance is to their twin, though. Only next to the Autobot cause.::_

Her shoulders twitched, before tightening. :: _I am sorry, you know.::_

_::Yes. I should have been kinder. You are still a youngling- by our standards as well as yours. You carry this burden remarkably well.::_

She exhaled sharply, ignoring Bee's curious look- she was getting quite good at it. Then they stopped at a huge metal door, painted with a scarlet Autobot symbol.

_::And they called_ me  _prideful::_ he muttered. She snorted back.

"Let's get this over with," she told herself with a wan smile.

As she entered the room, she was met with both glares and blankness as she faced all the Autbots on earth.

...

Silence and tension filled the room, as the twins moved away, grimly taking positions next to their comrades. Evelyn felt her eyes take them in, slowly, and even managed a small smile when she heard their accomplishments by a weary Megatron-

-but then Optimus transformed.

And she went knock-kneed at his height.

_::Evelyn? Evelyn!::_ Megatron was shouting, but she barely heard him through the roaring in her ears.

_::He's big::_ she whimpered. :: _He's_ big!::

A brief pause, and- :: _You've seen my memories.::_

_::You were taller than him!::_ She shouted back. :: _He was_ shorter  _than you! I- I can probably fit in his slagging palm! You-::_ she forcefully cut herself off.

"Ah," she said faintly. "This… was a mistake."

_::Femme! Don't you_ dare  _walk away!::_

_::No! Have you_ seen  _his size? I'll make a fragging body for you if you want one, but I'm_ out of here!::

And turning around, she walked away.

...

Optimus watched, confused, as the human girl went white at his transformation.

"This was a mistake," she stuttered out, before turning around to walk away, and he just watched, because hadn't  _she_ been the one to initiate contact?

Then her body froze, and half-turned around; in the next moment it twitched forward. Worried, he moved forward, hands already reaching to touch her when-

-"Don't touch her!" Ratchet bellowed.

Dropping his hand, and turning a truly annoyed stare at Ratchet, he almost asked something, but that faded when he saw the real look of fear on his face. "What is it?"

"She's experiencing some… impossibilities in muscle conformation. I don't-"

"A bomb!" One shouted from the back, but they both ignored him.

"Wait-"

A hand tightened into a fist, and then all emotion smoothed out of her face, into an almost-unnatural look of emptiness. "Optimus Prime," her voice said flatly, hints of respect weaving through her voice. "I am telling you this so you may know- I was caught. Held in prison." Her eyes shut, opening brown instead of the blue they'd been moments before.

"Let me go!" She shouted, muscles convulsing out of control.

Then her eyes were blue again, and she was still. "I was… injured. Badly. I needed medical assistance, but my spark was destroyed. I found a… sympathetic soul, in this girl. She had helped me. I wish to-"

His voice cut off, only to be replaced with brown eyes that were looking so  _pained_ he flinched.

"She's going into shock!" Ratchet slid forward, catching her before she landed on the floor.

Optimus watched, numb, as the young girl remained unconscious- that was the term, he thought- in Ratchet's hand.

"Well, slag," someone muttered. Bumblebee, Optimus saw, was weaving as well- most likely in shock. "What are we going to do now?"

He sighed. "Keep her safe, of course. We shall talk in the morning."

...

Hurt.

Agony. Betrayal.  _Anger._

She felt all of that, and more- suddenly she was aware of how Megatron must have felt when he was imprisoned. Then she was  _furious,_ because she didn't  _want_ to feel emotion for that… that  _person_ she'd put her hopes and dreams in.

He'd violated her body just as he'd been violated, and she couldn't help but feel the hurt that he'd  _do_ such a thing.

_::I gave you_ everything:: she hissed, pouring all of her emotion into those words. :: _And_ this  _is how you repay me? Watch me tell them. I'll tell them everything and I'll smile when they kill me!::_

Anger had darkened the edges of her world into blood-soaked silk; she welcomed the warm thrum of it against her chest.

_::I am sorry::_ he whispered abruptly. :: _I had to tell them, however. You… would not listen, not in such a state. And if you hadn't noticed, both of the twins had their guns pointed at you and were ready to pull the trigger if you'd continued to walk in that direct-::_

_::LEAVE ME ALONE!::_

Her hands tightened, remembering the betrayal when her muscles had not obeyed her command. What frightened her more than anything else, however, was that he  _could_ have done such a thing. He  _could_ have made her do  _so many damn things,_ and she couldn't stop him.

He was too strong.

_And will you fear that strength, Evelyn?_ She asked herself.  _Do you fear that strength more than you love your life? What is that saying- 'do not be afraid of the strength of others,' and 'you can only be brave when… you have fear.' What is bravery, after all, than walking into the mouth of hell, deliberately?_

Bowing over her lap, she bit back the tears. Tears were weak. And she wanted their respect, as much as she wanted their belief. They wouldn't respect tears, not truly.

_::Listen to me::_ she made her decision and told him firmly. :: _I cannot forget what you did yesterday. It was cruel of you, and I cannot condone it. However- there were extenuating circumstances. I know for a fact that you didn't do that to hurt me, though you should have considered it. You didn't, and I'm…_ hurt.  _It will take me some time to return to normal. I_ am  _willing to forgive you.::_ Then she waited.

His words were stilted, careful. :: _I do not know if I should accept that. I was deliberately painful to you, to discourage you from continuing to fight. I hurt you, and… no extenuating circumstances should allow me to gain you forgiveness.::_

_::It has::_ she told him archly. :: _And it will. But… for now, I think it will be best if we speak to the CMO Ratchet, yes? I don't want to retain any long-term damage from this.::_

Megatron nodded slowly.

And Evelyn didn't smile. Smiles, she'd found, were something innocents did. And she was no longer an innocent.

_The war has taken its first victim,_ she thought, almost bitter.  _How many more before…_

She didn't finish that thought, though, and reached for the medical bell easily.

...

"She is strong," Ratchet told him quietly. The human earthling had woken up- and he'd heard the shift in her breathing- but she hadn't done anything else until she reached for the bell.

Her words to him had been polite, calm. And if it startled him, the distance and emptiness in her eyes- well, Ratchet was good enough that he hadn't displayed any signs yet of it.

She'd also lain in the bed- hadn't even asked if she was allowed to go anywhere. Her eyes had avoided his, though, and given him no chance to protest her actions; she'd been the model patient. It was only when he injected her with a sedative that he saw something approaching panic- her eyes widened and he sensed a spike in her adrenaline. Moments later, it flatlined into normal levels, and he left to report to Prime.

The feelings of the bots were… divided, to say the least. Some wanted to offline her, citing that they didn't know whether the mech was an Autobot or a Decepticon. Others wanted to wash their hands of her, giving her up to the government. And- it seemed that Prime had decided to keep her on base, to question her.

"Very strong. She did not resist my treatments, at all, though I suspect the mech inside of her was numbing selective parts of her body. She was calm, polite, and deferential to my authority. Makes me wonder who would have seen a… sympathetic soul… in her. As far as I can tell, most mechs tend to cause chaos when possible."

"Prowl didn't," Optimus reminded him. "And there were others. Perhaps this one is a neutral."

Ratchet tugged, thoughtfully, on one of his plates. "Doubtful. She wanted to talk to us since she contacted Bumblebee." A brief breath, and then he sighed. "I checked his worries on Energon radiation in her system. He was right to be worried, but it doesn't seem to be hurting her." He shook his head, bewildered. "Perhaps the mech is causing it?"

"Is it dangerous to her?"

"If the mech is removed- maybe. If not, I don't know. This is a…  _unique situation._ To say the least."

Optimus nodded wryly. "You'll do well, Ratchet. Now- is she awake?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps it is time to talk to her and this… mystery mech."

_..._

_::Are you okay, youngling?::_ Megatron kept his voice calm, remembering the gut-wrenching terror that had broken through the soporific effect he'd woven around her mind. The sedative the damn medic had given was painful, at least to her; she compared the effect to what she supposed a hangover would be like and he couldn't help the flash of amusement.

::I- _yes. I am fine.::_  She wasn't. The flashes of true pain in her mind were very, very real, and he winced in sympathy. Sedatives were horrible to wake up from.  _And you?_ She asked curiously.

He catalogued his mental status, and came up with healthy. :: _Fine, though having my own body would be better.::_ Then he re-considered the words, and added, grudgingly, :: _though I'll have to stay for a while yet. I… hacked into Ratchet's files while he was recharging. Apparently you have Energon poisoning- which is why Bumblebee was so interested- and if I leave, he doesn't know if you'll survive.::_

_::I'll manage, I'm sure::_ she responded wryly. :: _Now-::_

Optimus entered the hangar, blue optics whirring like mad when he saw the curiosity in her face.

"Hello, youngling," he rumbled comfortingly. Megatron shifted when she mentally recoiled and only smiled wanly.

"It is an honor to see the leader of the Autobots," she told him flatly. Her words sounded rancorous- but the sentiment behind them were true, so-

_What game are you playing, femme?_

He answered his own question a moment later. Establishing a relationship as an  _Autobot,_ without coming out and saying it- devious in manners he'd never thought of.

Optimus nodded slowly, before tipping his head to the side. "How are you?"

Megatron wondered what she looked like, sitting on Ratchet's med-bunk; from what he could tell, she was pale and drawn, but the heights of the appliances around her made her look almost like a  _doll_ from Prime's perspective. He scowled. Pride would be his downfall- it  _always_ had been- and always would be.

Pride might have saved the youngling's life before him, but it had ruined his own.

"Well enough," she told him- his  _brother-_ quietly, feeling the alien emotions of love and longing wash through her mind. Yet she didn't flinch away, which softened his own ardent self-loathing a smidge. "I _do_ apologize, though- for yesterday, I mean." She grimaced, and he knew she was thinking about the way she'd frozen up. "I-  _panicked._ The memories I'd seen were- showed you as the smallest Prime, and a… smaller bot than some. I suppose… I got used to it."

_::Nice way of saying you underestimated him, isn't it?::_

_::Shut up, Megatron.::_

He chuckled and subsided, watching the conversation between them take place with a sleepy optic. He'd stayed awake through her sedative, unable to control her muscles with her mind so heavy, but also unwilling to leave her defenseless.

In war, a moment's speed could save a life.

Then Optimus asked if he could talk to him, and the world came back into focus with a vengeance.

_::Do you think- if I gave you complete control willingly- you'd be able to take control?::_

_::If you did not panic… It is possible. However- I would not recommend it; you ne-::_

_::They'll never trust me otherwise.::_ Steeling herself, she let the half-soporific effect of sleep lull her, and watched as numbness flickered through her limbs. Megatron stepped forward, seizing control of her body with a greediness she suspected he didn't want her to know; she waited patiently as he settled in. :: _Don't break me, 'Tron.::_

_::I wouldn't dream of it::_ he replied softly.

...

"May I speak to your… bot?" Optimus made sure to keep his voice gentle and warm, but confusion was weaving its own melody into it quickly. The girl looked so  _fragile,_ slumped against giant pillows and larger tools, but she housed a bot that had  _come to him_ for help. It was the sole reason- she didn't know other Cybertronians, he was sure, especially after she fainted when she saw him- that he had let them stay in the base.

She jolted, slightly, and he wondered what she was thinking before she offered him a slow smile. "I'll see what I can do."

Her eyes closed, lightly, before her body stiffened; Ratchet stepped forward with a strangled shout, and then her eyes opened, Autobot blue.  _Not Decepticon red. Another reason why I am willing to give you a chance._

"You wished to speak to me, Prime," she said levelly, eyes flicking over both him and Ratchet before focusing on him with a single-minded intensity that was  _frightening._

"Yes," he rumbled. "What is your designation? Your affiliation? Your… story?"

She twitched slightly. "I… am against the Decepticons. I was-  _infected-_ with a virus for a long time, Prime. It nearly destroyed me- it  _did_ destroy my sanity. For  _millennia,_ I fought- by the time the war started I was long gone." Her eyes tilted up to his face, huge and warm. "But I assure you… had I been myself, I would have been an Autobot."

Was that a plea, or a statement? Optimus couldn't be sure, and the evolving mystery of this girl not so much as intrigued him as frightened him.

Ratchet called from the back, "And your designation?"

There was a moment's hesitation, and she shrugged. "Megatron."

And the world dissolved in screaming.

...

Ratchet was shouting; Optimus had his cannons pointed directly at her face. Her face blanked, of all expression, paling to a shade Optimus noted vaguely as better directed to milk or froth.

Then her eyes closed, and swirled to brown. The absolute terror on her face startled him. Did she really think-

_You're holding a slagging cannon to her_ face,  _Optimus. She's a_ youngling,  _too._

"He- he was  _joking,"_ she squeaked out.

And… he might have been completely caught in her idea- but she hadn't recoiled backwards at their guns. He'd seen terror and anger, hurt and…

Calculation.

She had done everything- perfectly- to save her life. And it was a…  _flawless_ performance. But it was just that perfection that pulled his attention. Wary, he watched as she calmed Ratchet down with a few well-placed words-  _too well,_ the suspicious part of his mind commented.

_This girl is dangerous,_ he thought quietly.  _This girl is_ dangerous.

...

And… after that, things cooled down.

The Autobots lived on the base alone, apparently; humans visited but the majority of their time was passed by themselves. And, with only a few days' time, she faded from their minds. Her avoidance- as well as Megatron's knowledge of their habits- was a formidable asset; she had no wish to interact with them more than necessary.

Evelyn associated hurt with them- as well as imprisonment.

Oh, sure- they called it protection, for her human body. But she  _knew_ that the mech standing outside her door was as much to watch her as for anything else. Unable to leave without silence and whispers, she stayed in her room.

_::I don't care::_ she told him impatiently after he told her she shouldn't let their words hurt her. :: _But there are more important things to be doing, and this is one of them.::_

She spent her days learning jujitsu and Cybertronian weak points- Megatron downloaded the information from the web and had her sketch images of the average Cybertronian.

_::I will not leave you without the capabilities to defend yourself, youngling. Not if they find out… and you need to run. You might be smaller and slower- but with the correct training you can at least put them down for some time.::_

So she rolled around and under, dodging the holograms he threw up for her. By the end of the day, her hands trembled and shook; her body was peppered with bruises. But at least she would sleep well.

The nightmares that had once faded were worse, now, than ever before- Megatron could  _feel_ her exhaustion and terror. It was run through with bitter anger, but the fear still pervaded her mind like a thick fog.

_::You need to sleep, youngling::_ he whispered worriedly. :: _It has been too long since you last recharged. Your health will soon be affected.::_

She shuddered back. :: _Online the damn holograph, Megatron! I can't- you know I can't-::_

_::I'll stay awake::_ he said abruptly.

::… _What?::_

_::I'll stay awake. You need to sleep, and I can pay attention to your dreams. I'll wake you if they become too bad, I promise.::_ He shifted awkwardly. :: _And you need the rest.::_

Shock was replaced by weariness almost immediately, and he watched her turn back to her berth with a look of defiance.

_::Now, if only you can turn that defiance to_ others,  _you will make a brilliant soldier.::_

She didn't respond.

_::Youngling? Youngling? Evelyn? What- did I say something?::_

_::No!::_ She reached back, hands scrabbling blindly against the metal of the hangar they'd shoved her in. ::I _never_ wanted  _to be a soldier, dammit! All I've ever wanted is to be a doctor!::_

_::What is a doctor?::_

_::A… medic, in your language.::_ She stilled with a force of will, and waited silently.

_::You would have made a wonderful one::_ he told her seriously. :: _But time is not on your side. I have said I'm sorry-::_

_::-I don't want your apologies. I… you didn't deserve what happened, and I don't deserve what's happening. But- shit happens. We get over it, and get past it. I just need some time to.::_

He snorted. :: _You are stronger than most mechs I know. To have_ me  _stuck in their heads- they would have gone insane, as much as not, and where would that have left me? Insane,_ again?::

She laughed. :: _I want… to see the moon, Megatron. I want to see the sky, and be reminded that we have… so_ much  _that is impossible, that is_ wrong.  _I want to be happy for now.::_

_::You are not imprisoned::_ he reminded her. :: _But you know you cannot go home.::_

_::Yes.::_

_::Then- go. See the stars, and I will tell you everything I know about them, all those things you can never understand from another.::_

Evelyn smiled softly, and walked outside. The mech outside- Sunstreaker, she recognized- instantly shifted into a threatening position, but she didn't give him anything more than an askance look.

And the world outside seemed so…  _beautiful,_ as it was- emptier but infinitely more mysterious.

Sitting cross-legged, she listened:

_::That star- over there, called Betelgeuse- it has a planet around it that is so fast it can barely be seen by your telescopes…_

_::And that one, no-_ that  _one- has the most gorgeous violet flares when one gets close to it. The heat is enough to melt all planets; it has no life, but we spent revolutions there, in orbit, watching its beauty…_

_::The blue constellation you call the Big Dipper has a star called Alcor- has a neighbor so close they are almost one. We… considered it to be a reason for our procreation's inherent superiority over you humans. The swath of flame it flared- completely out of nowhere- almost sheared my ship in half…_

And somehow, there were no nightmares that night.


	2. End of all Trust is Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Evelyn saves people, is betrayed, gets angry, runs away, and manages to yell at the only people on her side.
> 
> ...in all honesty, this should be the summary to every chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry this took so long.
> 
> See ya whenever I get the time!

The next day, she woke up on hard ground, body aching but not… broken. The night had been cold, but the lack of dreams left her refreshed and energized. Long hair was spread over the sand, the dark edges painted tan from clinging particles.

A smooth roll of her shoulders, and she was heading back inside. Megatron was still asleep- and she didn't have any intention of waking him. If there was one thing she didn't want to face today, it was a migraine.

Then Sunstreaker- who had remained outside to watch her, it seemed- clanked to his feet and she felt her heart drop somewhere to her toes.

Because that look… it was one of calculation. And if there was one thing she hated, it was people who wanted to manipulate her. Use her- fine. But at least be truthful about your beliefs and she- while she didn't _like_ it- was more forgiving of that than the smug superiority she could see in Sunstreaker's optics.

They were glittering blue.

(But any human knows to fear the wave of a tsunami, or the crash of the iceberg. Red is not always evil on earth; it holds blood and life and love in its depths. And blue is not always good.)

They were supposed to be the good guys, and their patronizing demeanor rankled some nugget of pride buried deep inside of her. Megatron thought on a level above her own; both mentally and physically she was outclassed, she admitted it. Yet she had numbers on her side- and even if the Autobots went on a bloody rampage, they couldn't stop a nuclear weapon. The confusion in Megatron's voice on the way to the base when she'd asked him to hack into the nation's security system had been… satiating.

Her smile as she walked to the hangar was one part satisfied, and two parts vicious.

_Threaten me, will you? I don't think so._

* * *

When she returned to her hangar, she realized why Sunstreaker was watching her like that.

The humans knew about her.

Will Lennox was inside with his friend, Epps- and she watched them calmly, though she twitched inside. She was almost sure that the Autobots had cameras installed into her room; she hadn't mentioned anything yet and would continue to avoid it like the plague. What they didn't know she knew could not be used against her.

These men- who were supposed to _protect_ her- held suspicion in their eyes, though, and as much as it was reasonable it _hurt._

 _You don't care,_ she reminded herself. _And they don't matter._

Except they were human. And they judged her by her words and her actions; by everything she'd hated and been forced to conform to her whole life. Superiority held an inherent flaw in it. _Prejudice…_ was another story.

They judged her, and found her lacking, and she wanted to hate them for it.

She could remember coming home, in tears, when she was five, six, seven… remember the blazing anger and defiance when she answered something she _knew_ to be right but was said to be wrong. Could remember the mutters from side corridors and glares from fellow classmates, could remember the moment when that hot rage twisted, hardening into resentment.

She'd walked through life with a pasted on smile that did nothing to hide the rancor in her heart.

And Megatron could _understand_ that. He, too, was tired. Tired of a world that had never cared enough to look past the mask to see the virus underneath; tired of all the conformity that had pruned away their potential before they'd known enough to reach for it; tired of the hatred and wariness that was as much an insult as a compliment. And Evelyn had welcomed him into her life.

Granted, he hadn't killed her friends or her family.

But once she cared for a person- it was whole-hearted and complete. Even betrayal could be overlooked- but it took a _lot_ for her to trust someone such. Their camaraderie had begun because she couldn't stand by and do nothing when Megatron wanted to do something _good._ Soon enough, it had devolved into something… more. She could understand him so clearly now, see the loss tucked behind a brilliant mind. She could _feel_ the hatred of the other Autobots, now- but she still didn't understand.

Because… Cybertronians didn't bury their dead. They had the bodies of their compatriots tucked away in certain areas, just _waiting_ for revival. Maybe they'd lost all hope.

But that sure as hell didn't excuse their other actions.

Optimus was the leader. If he could… if he could _care_ enough to teach his followers why he respected humans- life would be better. He'd chosen the right decision, she acknowledged it.

Yet she'd seen Megatron's memories. If he hadn't started the war, someone else _would have._ Hatred and prejudice had run rampant in their world, a festering underbelly of weakness and corruption that had been hidden away by those who could afford better.

And none had had a better life, than Optimus Prime.

Any other action- _any other-_ would have likely left Prime dead, and Megatron with him. Brotherly loyalty went a far way with both of them... But their differences had existed already. Optimus saw the good in things, but rarely the evil. He'd never been embittered in all their millennia of fighting- always optimistic and gravely confident.

The divisions that had slashed over their relationship into the tatters today had not begun in one day- an obvious thought later but a startled one at first. There had been discontent on both sides of a rapidly-growing chasm, and she suspected that had this rebellion not occurred, another _would have._

Bringing herself back to the present with a shake, she didn't react to the two soldiers. Tall and looming, she knew they were there as an intimidation factor. As a fifteen year old girl, she was still small. Petite, compared to everyone around her. And they knew she was here illegally.

…Why hadn't they _told_ someone?

 _You know why,_ she reminded herself bitterly. _They've chosen a side in this conflict, and you'll never win their allegiance. Remarkable, I suppose. But I've also chosen_ my _side in this war. They want war, but I'm_ not _a nameless tragedy for them to exploit._

"Tell me," she smiled bloodlessly, as she watched all Megatron's memories of the final battle, watching helplessly as Blackout fell to their guns.

(He could not be returned to her- to Megatron. Not for all the blood in the world.

It wouldn't stop her desire for revenge, though.)

"Why are you here?"

* * *

Megatron listened to them talk, luxuriating in the feeling of a good recharge. Both of them needed it, and her own skills of misdirection were well-developed. He didn't need to worry about it, he was sure.

The young earthling was toying with them. Her body remained stiff and fastidiously neutral, her expression as emotionless as she could make it.

He was proud of her control.

The anger encircling her mind grew with every word they spoke- every insult unintentionally given. Larger they might have been, but she had the advantage of surprise and ruthlessness on her hands. She wouldn't kill them- Megatron was sure that, if nothing else, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she killed a man. But hurt?

People _recovered_ from hurt. She couldn't afford to be kind enough to avoid hurting _everyone,_ and her ruthless morals reflected that mentality.

Her body shifted, drawing his attention to the tableau in front of him.

"If I told you his name," she told the men coolly, "you would kill me. Then- I hope- you would kill yourselves out of shame. And then where would our country be, without men such as yourselves to defend them?" Her smile tipped up, sharp-edged and pitiless. "And I have no wish to die today."

Epps shifted. "The Autobots are not machines. They will not kill you, I swear-"

 _I killed their best friend,_ she imagined saying back. _I would have killed more, wept under my hands, and screamed my rage up to the merciless sky that had spawned me and_ wouldn't let me die.

_Would you still not kill me?_

"I never said they were machines."

" _Then what is your name!?"_ Lennox shouted it, and Megatron felt all the color leech from her face.

 _::Oh my god.::_ She sounded horrified. :: _They think you've taken over my body-::_

 _::-Evelyn!::_ Megatron almost stepped forward, went _so_ close to that alluring idea of control, but she fell silent. He might have thought her offline if her heart hadn't been pounding.

::… _I'm going to kill them.::_

 _Well,_ he thought to himself, _at least she isn't shocked._

And he wished he could convince himself that what he said was true.

* * *

Maybe the yelling had been excessive.

A fifteen year old, shouting? Not very… awe-inspiring. So she didn't know why they paled at the murderous rage in her eyes. There hadn't been a hint of alien fury, there- only pure, human indignation.

Wars had been started over a person's plucked pride, and she'd thought, sitting naively, listening to her teacher drone, that they were stupid.

Oh, how stupid _she'd_ been. Pride meant everything to those who had nothing left to lose- like her. She might not give her life for that… but it would not be a long shot either.

And long years had passed since the last time she'd let go of her control like that. Sarcasm didn't behoove a young lady, as her mother was fond of saying, and the regrettable sharp tongue she'd inherited from her dad was not easily curbed. But… it had happened.

Maybe not tempered, as her mother had wished, but stamped out.

 _I was broken before._ She knew that feeling intimately, that careful restraint against flaying people alive, lest she be hurt by their reaction. She couldn't take on a classroom-full at the same time, and she wasn't foolish enough to try. _Now I am not._ The soldiers had stepped back- had stiffened at her sudden surge from her position against her berth.

But they hadn't underestimated her.

Sheer, sheer anger welded into her tongue had led to fifteen minutes- by Megatron's count- of yelling. At every action they'd taken against her, everything they could've done for her that they hadn't.

 _::Do you even_ care _that I've been wearing the same set of jeans for the past four days?::_ Megatron recalled with a gasp of laughter. :: _Are you_ aware _that the showers here are too tall for me? That I've been washing in the fucking_ sink?::

And what she was most proud of: she hadn't let a single thing slip. Her temper had, but her tongue had held back things she didn't wish to say, including any sensitive information. She'd controlled that, at least, in the throes of betrayal.

They left as soon as they could, avoiding her eyes and shuffling like kicked puppies. Her glare had sent the mech outside- Wheeljack- skittering away when he saw it.

 _::I can't believe they_ did _that!::_ She shivered slightly, back pressed against the door. Aloud, she bit out, "I am _not_ just controlled by you. I can't believe- they were supposed to be on my side." _Supposed to guard me. "_ They were supposed to- damn it!"

 _::Perhaps we should channel that energy into… helping me achieve one of my other goals here?::_ Megatron smirked lightly. :: _It will be dangerous.::_

 _::No.::_ She drew back. :: _I can't- not today. Please, 'Tron- don't-::_

 _::It will do you better to see the_ good _things about your coming here,::_ he promised, tone wheedling. :: _Not just the bad.::_

She stiffened, then slumped over in a sigh. :: _What the hell? Why not? I'll die soon, anyways. Might as well go out for a good reason.::_

He smiled.

* * *

**On the other end of the base:**

"Okay, what the fucking _hell_ is going on here?" Will glared up at Ironhide and Optimus, backed up by Epps. "Why do you have a _teenage girl_ hidden on the base?"

"It is a long story," Optimus told them quietly.

Epps folded his arms. "I've got all night."

"You'll have to tell them, Optimus," Ratchet interrupted. "They deserve that much, at least."

He sighed. "The girl came to us. Bumblebee saw her leaking Energon in Sam's school and asked him to talk to us. She… revealed that she knew our designations, and, when she came here, told us she had a… Cybertronian in her head. After that, she has kept to herself, and we did not see a need to interact with her, especially if she had contact with the non-designated Cybertronian."

"She's illegally here," Epps said firmly. "You can't keep her-"

"We cannot afford not to. If she is in contact with a Decepticon, it will be innocent lives hanging in the balance- Epps, I am sorry. But it is a question of frustrating one person or killing twenty others. I cannot help you, not in this matter."

Will exhaled sharply. "Epps- the 'Bots wouldn't hurt her, you know that."

"And the… guard on her door?" He shifted his weight to the side, readying for a fight. "It damn well looked like she was a prisoner!"

"Extenuating circumstances." Ironhide raised a glowing cannon and blew off some smoke easily. "Don't read too much into it."

Anger roiled through him, hot and fierce. "Did you _hear_ what the girl shouted? She _hates_ it here, and-"

"And she didn't say a damn thing that we could use, when she was yelling at you," Ironhide responded flatly. "Maybe the mech isn't controlling her, but she's too good for a normal human."

At that, Will snorted. "Don't underestimate a woman, 'Hide. _Ever._ That girl is a teenage girl- one of the most dangerous, most ruthless enemies you'll ever face."

Epps let some of his ire drift away. "And he ain't talking about a _fighting_ sense."

Hesitantly, they grinned at each other. "Cue the tears."

"...Oh, God, not the tears!" He leaned back. "They'll melt your heart!"

Turning, they saw the Autobots staring at them as if they'd lost their minds.

"Just wait until you make her cry," Epps said sagely. "Then you'll know what we're talking about."

"That's why we left when we did," Will added. "We could _feel_ the tears. Any sane man… or mech… fears those weapons."

Ratchet vented heavily and reached out. "Perhaps we ought to make sure they aren't glitched," he offered. Prime and Ironhide just stared.

* * *

**Meanwhile, on the other end of the base:**

It would take some time to set up the stage. Megatron needed to hack into their systems- only they couldn't be found out. Slowly dismantling the security could be _done,_ but it needed time. And time…

They didn't have too much of it.

After that- they needed to find the Allspark, get to the med-bay, and say the ancient words of forgiveness. Then they had to return… before they were killed.

_Oh yeah, we're going to die. Especially if the Allspark is where I think it is…_

He dove back into the code, sliding between the firewalls cautiously.

Decades of long practice helped him keep his mind focused on one detail.

Evelyn went through the normal duties of washing and brushing automatically, feeling the uncomfortable stretch of her mind while Megatron hacked the systems. She wasn't sure _how_ he could manipulate the systems when she was organic, but he could- and she wasn't in the habit of looking a gift horse too closely in the mouth.

She could ride, and she'd damn well make sure she wouldn't be mistaken for a beggar any longer.

 _::Go to bed,::_ Megatron ordered. :: _We must keep the schedule as normal as possible.::_

She didn't bother to answer, though she did head to the berth quietly. "Good night," she told him softly, curling on her side and tucking into the blankets with ease.

The lights went off, and she fell into a light slumber, waiting for Megatron's okay.

* * *

 _::I'm ready,::_ he told her, shaking her awake gently. :: _Evelyn-::_

 _::I'm up._ She rolled out of the berth slowly, dressing in the grey cloth he'd insisted she wear. :: _How are we going to leave without them knowing?::_

_::I have placed a recurring loop in their cameras. It will play for the entire night. But… there isn't a mech outside. You need not worry about that, so just… punch in the following numbers into the pad. We don't have any time!::_

She nodded, as the letters scrolled across her vision. The doors swung open easily- he'd given her the override code- and she stepped out into the linoleum-coated flooring slowly. :: _Where to?::_

 _::…Turn left.::_ He sounded distracted. :: _Now- right. Keep going, on a few steps…::_

_::Oh. He's focusing on the Allspark shard, probably tracking it based on the feelings.::_

Patiently, she waited.

Then they arrived at the door, and her eyes froze in shock when she saw exactly _whose_ it was. :: _Megatron?::_

_::Yes, youngling?::_

_::…If I die from this I'm_ so _blaming you. If we're caught-::_

 _::-they hate me. They will misunderstand. Don't think I haven't warned you, Evelyn. But I_ will _fix what I can, slag all the boundaries.::_

 _::Slag all the boundaries,::_ she hissed back. :: _Slag all the boundaries, Megatron, when you can slagging_ fight back! _I_ can't!::

 _::I've been teaching you to. You_ can, _Evelyn. Never doubt yourself that much.::_

 _::Ho- fine. But I_ will _hurt you, never doubt that I will, if your stupid plan results in my death!::_

He didn't say anything.

* * *

Finding the allspark was easy enough; Megatron could feel the shard's energies from a small box hidden on the top of a desk. _Getting_ to it was the hard part.

No matter what else, she was still human. A young, teenage _girl_ who was just barely beyond a _sixth_ of Optimus' height. The desk… was huge, to accommodate him, and she had to scramble over the wood and metal in such a manner that it took both her and Megatron's reflexes to not fall down.

But she managed to get to the top without alerting anyone, and the allspark shard wasn't protected any better through the human security than through the Autobot's defenses. It was a matter of _seconds_ for Megatron to undo them, and within a few minutes they were on their way to the med-bay.

Inside, it was dark, and empty. Ratchet was on another floor, according to Megatron, and there wasn't a single bot that was willing to stay in there without Ratchet imposing a forcible house-arrest on them. Still, she remained careful; more people had lost when their goals were in sight than when they were planning them.

 _::Ready?::_ She asked nervously. :: _We need to hack into…::_

 _::That area,::_ he told her calmly. Of course- he'd already _done_ this, probably hundreds of times. Breaking and entering wasn't a problem for any of these mechs. :: _Over there. Just tap these numbers into it-::_

The door swung open silently, and Evelyn felt her heart lodge somewhere in her throat.

 _Please, God,_ she prayed to some higher creature she'd never before believed in, _let me be able to do this._

The shard pulsed brighter in her hand, as she moved closer to Jazz's body, as if aware of her desires. Her arms trembled for a bare moment, holding the spark aloft, unsupported by the floor-

-and plunged it into his body.

* * *

She screamed, loud and sharp, and everything went to black.

The pain continued, in fits and bursts- she had never, _ever_ felt anything like it. Shielded she'd been all her life- and she'd never appreciated her parents' protectiveness more than now. Muscles spasmodically twitching against the pain, she let her head fall back against the…

…earth at her back.

Pain rinsed through her body in a sharp flood when she opened her eyes, but shock propelled her to her knees in a desperate attempt to see what was _going on._ She'd fallen on cold linoleum, she was sure- so why was she on red dirt?

"He- hello?" Her voice came out pitifully small, but the immediate flash of shame made her pull back. Megatron had drilled it into her mind:

Never let your location known to an enemy, especially when you're at a disadvantage.

Her skin was still pale and unmarked despite the writhing ball of pain hidden inside; it seemed to calm when she moved though- contradictorily- and she felt her body calm down further when she forced herself onto her feet and become even better when she took a few steps.

_::I can't- Megatron? Megatron?::_

Nothing. Not just silence, but _nothing._ She was alone in her head.

 _Where am I? Oh, God, I can't fight, they'll find out what I_ did- _this isn't possible!_

Except the impossible had become the possible months ago, and she had only barely managed to hang on for the ride in desperation.

Stumbling to one side at random, she finally began to take notice of her location. Flat, red plain stretched out on every side, a hot wind stirring the particles of sand every so often. _If I could breathe on Mars, this would be what it looked like._

_::Oh, God, Megatron. Help me!::_

"There's no Megatron here, youngling," a metallic voice said above her.

Her head swayed as she raised it, looking up… up… and _up._ The mech standing in front of her was tall and broad, and the paint job was different, but that glittering silver shield at his back…

"… _Jazz?"_ She asked, horrified.

He looked so _alive,_ so normal. She'd seen Megatron's memories, but the truth of forever lost hadn't imprinted itself until right then- Jazz stood as he would have before all this, not as the broken pile of shards in Ratchet's laboratory.

"That's right, little human," he said with a flashing grin. "Now, I think we need to talk."

"…Talk," she said faintly.

He reached out a hand, ready for her to step on it. "Yes. Now- did you _really_ have to help Megatron?"

Evelyn remained still. "You're alive."

"No," he said patiently. "I am not alive, younglin'. I was… dead. My spark was gone; Megatron was dead. I thought my time was done, until you plunged the fragging _Allspark_ into my chest, and now I'm here." His visor shunted up, silver-blue eyes looking down at her piercingly. "And I'll be alive soon, but before then the Primes wanted me to talk to you. I've seen who you are."

"…Who I am?"

"A… strong, fierce fighter. One willing to do what is right, beyond all danger- I never expected Megatron to become a good guy. Now look at you!" He shook his head and lowered his voice. "The Primes gave me a choice, and I think I'll take it!"

"…Choice?" Honestly, she felt beyond lost. The mech in front of her had so much energy, so much… _something-_ and she just didn't. He was beyond the sun; she was hidden in her backyard.

He nodded enthusiastically. "I'll be your Protector!"

She paled slightly, stepping back-

-and the world spun out of focus in a dazzling display of colors, solidifying into metal walls and stone floors quickly.

 _::Oh, good,::_ Megatron bit out, giving her full control of her body. Immediately, she swayed with the dizziness. ::I _thought you'd disappeared! What the slagging Unicron, femme? What_ happened?::

 _::I think…_ she replied, shoving all her memories at him as quickly as possible, :: _that I brought Jazz back to life.::_

 _::…It worked?::_ He asked blankly.

 _::Yeah.::_ She snarled in response. :: _We just need to head back, because this is slagging_ brilliant! _All we have to do is reach Prime's quarters, put the Allspark_ back, _and return to our quarters. The alarm'll be going off soon, too, won't it? And if we're killed… the fragging mech won't wake up for another ten hours, probably.::_

 _::Don't worry,::_ he instructed. :: _I've mapped out how to get there. If all goes according to plan, we should have a fifteen minute window to relax in your room, before they even_ think _about you.::_

She stumbled forward, and forced out, beyond the blurring pain, ::T _ell me where to go.::_

Alarms began to blare as she returned from Optimus' office.

* * *

She didn't know how she got back to a bed- but it wasn't good.

 _Megatron!::_ She called frantically, keeping herself still with an effort. If the Autobots found out who she was- _Don't think about it, Evelyn. Just… wait for Megatron._

He was there a second later, voice groggy. :: _What? I just-::_ He broke off suddenly, feeling exactly what she felt. :: _Holy slag of a fragging ship!::_

_::I felt that right?::_

_::You did!::_ He paced mentally across her head. :: _There's a fragging cannon pointed at you! And if we-::_ he broke off suddenly. :: _You're small, Evelyn.::_

She hesitated. :: _Yes, I am. I am an earthling femme, Megatron. You didn't lose any memories while I was gone, did you? ::_

 _::You're_ small. _Which means that you are… able to get to places they cannot. Now listen,::_ he ordered imperially. Perversely, it made her feel better, knowing that at least one of them had somewhat control of the situation. :: _Open your eyes slowly. Let the color drift in- don't let the machines get alarmed and alert them to who you are.::_

She had a migraine on top of everything else. _Lovely._

And seeing the glowing, whirling cannons up close was not easy.

"She has Decepticon readings!" Ratchet roared at Optimus, who shouted something back in Cybertronian. "She'll be the death of us all, Optimus, and you don't slagging care!"

 _::-Tent too far,_ both of them thought in tandem.

Then Megatron hissed, :: _This is your chance! Wait. Now!::_ She twisted her hands down, tugging the wires out of her wrists with the exact movement he'd taught her. :: _Now… breathe, Evelyn. It should take you…::_ Ironhide stepped away, the cannons lowered for a brief second, and she dove off the berth, rolling under it.

_:: At least my bruises have healed.::_

_::-time!_ He sounded frantic. There's a door set into the wall for humans- it has an overriding lock on it for the med-bay. If you can get to it, they won't be able to get to you.

Turning, she saw the door, and winced. :: _That's quite far, you know.::_

_::Well-::_

Gathering the shards of courage, she rolled out, executing one of the first moves he'd taught her faultlessly and landing against the door.

_::Okay. How do I-::_

Step back. Moments later, the med-bay shut down with a slight hiss that went unnoticed, and she slid away from them.

Megatron hacked into their secure system seconds later, directing her to the exits as quickly and obscurely as possible; they were outside and seated in a small Nissan that he swore wasn't an Autobot as quickly as she could walk. Driving away, she felt the jitters fade slightly, before increasing in hysteria.

 _::Oh my god! They're allied to the human government! If they catch me… I don't want to think about it. I'll be dead and dust, I'm sure- Megatron!::_ She let out a strangled scream when they swerved out of control, landing on the shoulder.

_::Calm yourself. I am not without my own… resources.::_

_::And that means… what exactly?::_

_::That we will make it out of this country soon, if we have any luck. Do you know how we were found?::_

She closed her eyes, struggling to remember. She'd heard the alarms, and continued onwards, arms sore and back aching. They'd reached Optimus' office, entered, placed the Allspark, and returned to her rooms…

 _::Oh, I know who it was,::_ she breathed murderously. :: _I'll slagging offline Sun-fucking-streaker next time I find him!::_

 _::…An interesting mix of foul language there, earthling,::_ Megatron told her, and she flushed.

 _::Now. They will be watching us, and as good as you are at keeping yourself under control…::_ Evelyn winced. She was no trained soldier, to be able to work under fire.

_::I get it. You'll have to do this. So, how should I-::_

_::Just step back. I shall take control, and you shall, while knowing everything and being aware of everything, not be in_ control. _If I do something, however, you find reprehensible-::_

 _::I don't think we have time for this, Megatron,::_ she said dryly, painfully aware of the sirens growing louder behind them. They'd delayed the Autobots for long enough, but escape from their base had been an ill-thought out move from the start.

Now, they would be aiming to kill.

 _::Which means we have to move_ fast,:: she thought agitatedly. :: _Which means we have to leave now, or face big,_ big _trouble.::_

_::Let's move!::_

* * *

The chase was, while dramatic, heart-stoppingly terrifying. Megatron at the wheels meant she was forced to cool her heels as he drove the car beyond its limits; burning rubber and screeches of tires on pavement became a natural smell to her after a time.

They ducked into parking lots and hid, all the while working their way to the largest airport in the area that couldn't be shut down easily: McCarran.

There were moments of such tension that she was hard-pressed to remain in the back seat- so to speak- but the vast majority of her time was just a seeping, underlying mass of strained nerves.

This, however, was not one of those times.

_::Um, Megatron?::_

_::Hmm?::_ He wasn't really paying attention.

_::Isn't that… Sideswipe?::_

_::WHAT? ::_ He stiffened, twisting slightly, and she pointed to the side mirror mentally. :: _Oh, slag,::_ he cursed. :: _That_ is _Sideswipe. And… to the left, that's-::_

 _::-Ironhide!::_ Evelyn moaned in despair. :: _How did he get so_ close?::

He revved the engine lightly, readying it. :: _Only two cars between us, and four between us and Sideswipe. They won't hesitate to cut_ us _down, but civilians- we have a chance.::_ Abruptly, his tone shifted, from distracted to focused. _Do you know your train times, Evelyn?_

 _::What? No. Why would you…::_ she trailed off, as a sickening revelation made itself known. :: _Megatron, don't you_ dare _do what I think-::_

A sharp blare was heard from the left, about twenty yards ahead, and the remaining color bleached from her face. _Megatron!_

Revving slightly louder, he inhaled and exhaled. Calculations flew in his mind, too fast for her to read them, much less identify, but she got the vague sense that he was calculating trajectory and speed. The Autobots wouldn't be killed, she was sure of that much, but- there was a _train_ coming their way.

_::Megatron!::_

He still didn't answer. Instead, he twisted the key in the ignition, revved the engine sharply, and leapt the red light without a second thought. Another intersection, this time larger, was filled with passing cars; she stopped hearing the horns of the cars behind them when she fixated on the terror in front of her.

 _::We shall make it, youngling,::_ he rumbled, and they leapt through the light without a second's hesitation. Beeps and furious yelling followed them, but she remained tense as they approached the last obstacle.

The plastic 'fence' that designated entry and not was down; she could _see_ the train coming down. Two cars remained, waiting idly-

-and Megatron continued in such a manner that one wheel was _on_ the curb, the other on the road, and shattered the plastic bar with a huge force. Windows down- it apparently reduced wind friction and gave them a few extra MPH- she could _feel_ the rush of air displaced from the train.

But they made it.

Tension dripped out of her frame, as she returned to the forefront of her mind and sagged against the wheel, eyes closed shut.

Only to open them wide, wide, _wide,_ when she heard Optimus Prime's regal voice at the window.

"Step out of the car, miss."

 _::Megatron?::_ But he had gone silent, his way of coping with shock, and she felt hysteria dig deep roots into her. _I'm in such deep, deep shit I don't see how I can get out of this._

(Meanwhile, back in their base, a silver mech's frame shifted, optics coming online in a flash of brilliant blue.)

* * *

 


	3. Crumpled Ideals

_::Megatron, what the hell should I_ do?:: Evelyn poked at him slightly harder than she meant to. _We need…_

 _::There is nowhere to run,_ he told her quietly. _Follow their directions, youngling. Perhaps we shall make it out of this yet.::_

Muscles trembling, she reached out and unlocked the car. Instantly, the door was pulled open, a smooth gun coming in and pointing at her head.

Even knowing it was a hologram, her mind went blank with sheer panic. :: _Megatron!::_

 _::Follow their directions::_ he commanded.

Slowly, she got out of the car. Begging came to mind- for her life, for _something-_ but pride still held control of her in that sense. She would not beg, not yet.

Not ever.

"Do you have anything to say for your actions?" Prime questioned, voice hard.

Something inside her- the part she didn't dare call Megatron- cringed at that, but she didn't- _couldn't-_ react in that manner. "Nothing you'd…" She bit off the last words she almost said, suddenly knowing how they'd take them.

"Nothing we'd _what?"_ Ironhide growled, sliding into view besides Sideswipe. Her heart stopped.

"…Just nothing, Ironhide." The awkward smile didn't seem to help.

"Tell us why you had Energon radiation and Decepticon signals on your body, femme," Prime said sternly. "Who did you contact? Who did it help?"

 _I stole into your room and got the Allspark,_ she imagined telling him. _Then I brought your lieutenant Jazz_ back to life. _Who did that help?_

"…Me," she whispered. "It was all to help me."

 _::What the slagging hell, youngling!::_ Megatron was back with a vengeance. :: _Why would you_ do _that?::_

_::Because they can tell when my heart rate goes up. And my heart rate goes up when I lie! If I lie- and they find out- how much deeper will I be in shit?::_

_::…I suppose they're good reasons, youngling. Still-::_

"We shall head back to base," he said gravely. Ironhide's hologram scowled heavily, slamming the door to the truck open, and stomped over to Prime.

" _Why?"_ He growled. "Are you a slagging _idiot,_ Prime? Offline her here and we'll have-"

"She is a youngling," he replied seriously. " _Stand down,_ Ironhide. There is nothing left for us here. We shall take her back to the base, and decide what to do with her there."

 _::Oh, Primus help me.::_ Evelyn saw them get into their respective cars, then hesitate over who would take her. :: _I can't keep doing this, Megatron.::_

 _::They shall not offline you, youngling.::_ His voice circled closer, a warming hug engulfing her mind for a few, precious moments. :: _We shall not- I hope- be fatally… injured.::_

Long hair tumbled down her back as they escorted her to Sideswipe's car. Inside, she kept her head bowed and eyes closed, desperate thoughts entwining with fears. They were a good hour's drive from the base, and it would- hopefully- take them some more time to reach a decision.

And they'd been running for about six hours.

_All we need to do is delay by about two hours. Then… I'll have a Protector._

The glasses inside were tinted, shadowing the brilliant afternoon light, but she didn't seem to notice. Sideswipe had chosen to model a fast luxury car- and it showed in the smoothness of his driving. Evelyn had no reason to move the entire time she was in there.

* * *

Sideswipe gazed at the human seated in him with no small amount of worry.

She had barely moved the entire time she'd remained in the car; had he not heard her heartbeat he would have assumed she was dead. Too stiff for recharge, she seemed content that way.

A flash of annoyance-cum-amusement flitted through him.

In many ways, the girl reminded him of Sunstreaker. Not _violent,_ as he was- but awkward. Socially… constrained. Nice enough, to those they liked- and absolutely horrendous to those they didn't. _Uncaring._

She hadn't screamed, though, or freaked out- which he thought was a good sign.

Then he saw the blue edge to her eyes and realized that she must have been holding herself back from a nervous breakdown because of the Decepticon inside her.

Sighing, he considered the problem. Silence had never suited him; he'd always been personable and magnetic. Not _kind_ per se, because no one in their right minds _ever_ thought of him or Sunstreaker as kind. But at least he didn't find it so hard to interact with mechs.

Sunstreaker _did._ He hated large crowds, despised polite conversation, and loathed kind gestures as if they were Unicron's own spawn. The only reason he'd ever held a higher rank than Sideswipe was because he was brilliant at his job; the sheer brutality of his work was often the most efficient way to getting information out of 'Cons.

They hadn't gotten their reputation unfairly.

But… he'd changed after landing on this Primus-forsaken planet. Sideswipe knew that there had been some flings for both of them, over the centuries; neither had ever taken them seriously, or so he'd thought.

He hadn't counted on Sunstreaker _actually_ falling in love with one of the femmes.

It had been a small detour, when they were in the area- Prime had relocated all femmes and sparklings to a far-flung planet in a desperate attempt to keep them safe- and most 'Bots found it relaxing to go there for inspiration or rest.

The one femme he could think of that Sunstreaker missed would be Flare-up; she'd refused his advances in- admittedly- a violent manner. And ever after, his twin refused to bring up femmes or anything beyond the bare minimum for the war.

Worry pulsed sluggishly through his spark, there but not all-consuming. Maybe… maybe this strange girl, with all her _female intuition_ that he and his friends sorely lacked, could help him.

Over the radio, he began talking.

* * *

Evelyn was fuming.

There was terror mixed somewhere inside her; a healthy fear of death and the great-beyond. But, honestly, the main thing she felt was _rage._ Because she had gone, unarmed, into her mind's greatest enemies' lair, had accepted whatever imprisonment they'd done to her, and, damn it, _saved one of their oldest friends!_

And for all her acceptance and meek demeanor- not that it would _change;_ she was too aware of her body's weaknesses compared to the other Cybertronians- she had been rewarded by a cannon to her face.

According to her father, she was a forgiving person.

What he hadn't said was that she was forgiving to those who deserved forgiveness. To those she cared enough about to forgive.

And Ironhide was _not_ one of those… people.

Replace his blue optics for red ones, and he could have easily joined Megatron's army. He was blunt and vicious and suspicious; the only reason he'd joined the Autobots was because most of his friends were on that side. The Autobots had their own war crimes she could accuse them of she so wished. Her anger had not dimmed over the months, only hardened into resentment.

History was written by the victors- and the Autobots had just won a resounding triumph. The war was over; their people could rejoice. But in silencing their enemy, they hid the reason for Megatron's initial desire for revolution- stagnancy.

How long would it take, before their world crumbled back to the way it had been? How long before corruption ran rampant, and how much _longer_ would it take before they recognized it?

How long- before Prime and his fellows lay dead, and a glorious new regime began?

For all intents and purposes, Megatron still loved his brother. He would not stand by- could not- while he made the same mistakes as always. Prime had always been blind, but Megatron had not.

The only variable in all this was herself.

She knew that she was regarded with distrust because of her reactions. What fifteen year old didn't freak out but instead walked calmly into the hands of alien robots?

Was that how it was supposed to go? Should she have locked herself in her room, screamed how unfair the universe was, and when someone told her to get over herself, she would? Was she supposed to accept the changes to her life and just… move on? As if there bloody well wasn't a _power-hungry robotic alien_ in her head?

Anger mixed with a healthy dose of fear was what she felt in response. Anger, and terror, and a gigantic sea of frothing hurt under it all.

_Because she hadn't asked for this._

"What's your name, human?" Sideswipe's radio came on, and she felt Megatron step back in response.

Regarding him doubtfully, she said, "Evelyn Monroe."

_Rule number six when dealing with your enemy: never give more information than necessary. It makes it a hell of a lot easier to contradict yourself later if you never said anything in the first place._

"Evelyn Monroe," the radio rumbled thoughtfully. "I don't know how much you know about us Cybertronians, so-"

"I have one of you _in my head."_

"Still." The voice remained gratingly cheerful. "Let's talk!"

_Um, no. I'd much rather just sit here and think about my upcoming death. Or how to avoid it._

Her lips twisted slightly. "A question for a question, then?" She forced her voice to remain calm. Even. "I'll ask one, you answer, then you ask one."

The seatbelt twitched slightly, almost like an involuntary smile. "Sounds good."

"Ok, so…" she trailed off, trying to find a topic that she didn't know about but also wasn't too… _personal._ "What made you choose to become an Autobot?"

 _Oh, great job, Evelyn. So_ not _personal!_

"I- I was rather young, when the war first began," he said slowly, taking her by surprise. He was thinking about his answer, as if it mattered deeply to him. "My creators were Autobots, and so- so I was too. Never really had a choice in the matter."

"Do you wish you did?" She asked, before biting back the next words. His regard for her question had lulled her into a false sense of camaraderie. "Sorry- your turn."

"It's fine. If you had a… relative… that was broken-hearted, what would you do?"

 _Ah. So_ now _we come to the reason for your questions._ Still- she couldn't deny that she was amused.

"Broken-hearted?" She forced out, swallowing decidedly-inappropriate laughter. " _Broken-hearted?"_

"Well…"

"I don't want to know." Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment. Amusement fled when she actually thought about the question. "But… if, hypothetically, a family member _was_ broken-hearted- I'd tell them to get over it."

"Sounds- harsh."

"It is," she said quietly. Trying not to remember nights, coping with schoolwork and loneliness and that bitter feeling of self-pity. "But sometimes a person needs to be reminded that there are more important things than… themselves." They drove in silence before she spoke again. "So- do you wish you had?"

"Had what?" He asked confusedly.

She tapped her head back against the cushion. "A choice- between Autobot and Decepticon… and Neutral?"

"No." He said firmly. "Decepticons are… evil. Why would I ever want to be one of them?" The entire car shook slightly.

"Most of them had no choice," she said quietly. "When all you know is evil, every day of your life… it doesn't excuse what they've done! Evil is still evil, but it explains some stuff- doesn't it?"

 _::Evelyn-::_ Megatron whispered worriedly, :: _what are you_ doing?::

_::Nothing… too drastic. Don't worry.::_

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to overstep."

What she meant, was: _listen to what I've said, you slagging piece of scrapped metal!_

But if the Autobots could read her half as well as she wanted them to- well. She'd likely be six-feet under, in more pieces than whole.

_::And I'd much rather be misunderstood than dead.::_

_::Oh, youngling,::_ Megatron whispered sadly.

"There is evil in this world. There is… darkness. Pretending like there isn't is more stupidity than folly. How much have you lost, through Megatron's stupidity? How much _more_ do you stand to lose, drawing the lines of your hatred with the Decepticons ever deeper?" She pushed a hand through her hair. "There are more important things, Sideswipe, than millennia-old prejudices."

" _Prejudices?"_ He squawked back. "They _killed_ people, femme! They've committed atrocities!"

The temperature was growing warmer, and she forced the rest of the words back.

 _One step at a time,_ she reminded herself.

"Perhaps you are right," she murmured.

They drove the rest of the way back to the base in silence.

* * *

"We do not know what to do with her," Optimus told them quietly. "She ran away- and we had no idea of what was going on until the med-bay was placed in lockdown. When we returned- after the entire base was _locked down_ and we searched for _six hours-_ Sideswipe was… disturbed."

Ironhide nodded, leaning on one of his cannons. "To put it lightly. The femme needs to be put down, for all our safety."

"Ironhide!" Both Will and Epps barked, more than a little horrified.

"What?" He shrugged. "If she managed to signal to any 'Cons in the area we're done for. There're only a couple of us, and if it…"

Epps braced himself sharply, and bit out, "She's a _child._ And she's come to _us._ Maybe all we need to do is talk to her- not that I'm saying we need to coddle her. But shutting her up in a room hasn't gotten a single bit of info, and I think we might need to switch some tactics!" Whirling around, he addressed Will. "What's the first rule of interrogation, huh? When a person doesn't respond, _try something else._ I think we can say that we- ten robotic aliens and two army rangers- have failed completely at getting her to talk! So, dammit, Will, let's _talk_ to her instead of asking _her_ to talk to _us_!"

Will sighed, dragging a hand down his face. There were so many moments, after that attack in Qatar, when he'd wanted to sit down and ask, _what the hell has become of my life?_ Sadly enough, he had no response most of the time.

"Fine. We'll go talk to her."

* * *

She sighed, frustrated.

The best lie was the absolute truth- and Evelyn had absolutely no remorse in her actions.

"I left," she said levelly, eyes meeting Major Lennox instead of Epps, "because when I woke up, there were cannons pointed at my head."

 _Let's see what they make of that. I'm so_ done _with idiots walking in here, threatening me and cajoling me with their smug, patronizing looks. Peace is a strange concept to you, is it, Autobots?_

 _It is_ your _problem that I don't give a damn._

The two men exchanged unreadable looks; on second thought, she could read them just fine. Apparently, they hadn't know that little gem of a fact.

 _Did you_ really _think that I would keep that secret? I've got nothing to be ashamed of here._

"Maybe I shouldn't have," she continued blithely. Megatron was asleep at the moment, and she didn't want to wake him. Light, pale emotions were the best bet for now. "But I panicked. I mean- it isn't like he's known for being… restrained. And I'm not like the other mechs! If he shoots me, my red guts'll come out and explode and I'll be deader than a doornail!"

 _Okay. That was rather… gruesome._ She tried very hard not to snicker when their faces blanched. _Even for me._

"Fine," Lennox said flatly. "That explains why you left."

The wave of exhaustion that crashed over her head was both unwelcome and expected. Suddenly, all she wanted was to go home, to sit with her mother and drink Pepsi around a trashy romantic movie that her father and she made fun of but one she still cried at with her mother. She'd been gone for five days- including the one when Bee had driven her there. They'd start worrying soon, and she wasn't cruel enough to keep them wondering.

Reaching out to a paper, she scribbled down a note- to show Megatron later- and sighed again. "Was there something else you wanted to know?"

These men didn't know her. Hell- _nobody_ knew her. She had friends, but none so close that they'd understand why she did what she did. In school, she was the quiet, reclusive girl nobody picked on because there was _nothing_ to pick on.

Sam Witwicky tried to be popular. Evelyn had never aimed for that goal.

"What did you write down?" Epps asked her, and she couldn't stop the flinch in her shoulders if she wanted to.

"Nothing."

They frowned, but said nothing more of it. They were kind, if blind. But still- she supposed everyone had their shortcomings. If these people were ignorant, it wasn't the worst trait to have.

"Are you sure… you're alright?" Lennox asked.

She hesitated. On the one hand, she could answer truthfully- and bring unwanted concern on her head. And she _was_ fine. Physically, she was healthy. Mentally- that was something she didn't want to look too deeply into.

Nightmares were no stranger to her, and all she was thankful for was Megatron's iron control over her body while she slept. Her tears and screams and pleas went unheard because while she slept he stayed awake- and while he slept she did the same. Rousing each other from the worst was the least they could do.

On the other hand, they could probably tell if she lied… fine. She knew her decision anyway. It wasn't like anyone could help her, and there was no psychology in the world to handle the kind of trauma she was racking up.

Thousands of years' worth of torture, in a teenager's body.

The most surprising fact was that the mental dichotomy hadn't torn her apart.

"I'm fine," she told them sardonically. "I have a giant metal alien robot stuck in my head, and I'm in his… enemies' base." She tried for a smile, but when it barely twitched her lips she broke it off. "The weather's lovely, though."

Epps snorted, but Lennox seemed to frown deeper. Evelyn felt a hint of desperation, but broke off the tips of the questing vine with nary a thought. She was not _desperate._ She was _strong._ And anyone who thought otherwise could go think that of someone who cared.

"Really," she insisted. "I heard the sun's supposed to be shining all day. Not that it isn't a _desert,_ but what the hell, right?" The smile felt more natural this time, and she sank against the cold metal, ignoring the reflexive flinch along the bruises from last night.

Lennox continued to shoot her suspicious glances, but Epps only laughed again and dragged him out.

She resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

Turning her mind to the natural order of things, her lips thinned. Exhaustion tugged at her, but she didn't know if she could do it without Megatron to wake her up from the worst. It had been over three days since her last good night's sleep, and she was about ready to cry from both frustration and anger.

Her body was supposed to be inviolate. It was supposed to be _her._ She had never felt so betrayed in her life- not even when Megatron took over control. He was an alien presence. He was not _her,_ but her body was.

It ached that she could not exercise that much control.

 _Oh, damn the consequences. I need_ sleep.

She fell asleep on her berth a few minutes later.

When she woke up a few hours later, it was to fire and brimstone and hell.

* * *

 _Whatever I expected,_ she thought faintly, _it was not this._

Then a burning section of the roof came down, and she was yanking Megatron out of his slumber and shoving him into the front of her brain, half-shutting down the rest of herself in hysteria.

_::Dammit, Megatron! Do something!::_

He stiffened, sleep still digging hands into him- and they _didn't have the time for this._ Forcing him back was a split-second decision; trying to find her way out of the room wasn't. She supposed she should be thankful that the smoke had wakened her instead of forcing her unconscious.

There would have been no surviving that- and the Autobots would never risk one of their own for someone like her.

The implicit statement of indifference still hurt, though.

Crawling on her hands and knees burned her hands, but there was nothing for it. Better to drag through the smoke and choke until she spat blood if the other option was to die an ignominious death here.

Aluminum walls blazed red against an outside fire, and she twisted out of the way of a crumbling metal tower. Her mad scramble left her closer to the door, though, so it wasn't a complete loss.

Stumbling towards it, she flung them open-

-just in time to see the flames outside. Terror surged mindlessly through her; she'd made her gamble and lost.

There was no time to run to the other side.

Despair slumped over her shoulders, but she found she couldn't apologize to Megatron. She had told him she would keep him safe.

This was not _safe._

 _::Step back, Evelyn,::_ he said gently.

She didn't bother to question him. Letting him take control, she watched in mounting feared awe as he manipulated her muscles to leap over the obstacles she'd thought impossible. Her mental shrieks continued to grow in both pitch and volume, until they reached the far wall.

The wall was too thick at the best of times, to kick down. But right then, flames had probably charred half of it away. With Megatron's knowledge of her muscular system, they could- hopefully- get out.

The spinning kick kicked the last of the good, _clean_ air out of her systems, leaving her crawling out on hands and knees, bleeding and bruised and _so bloody close_ to being broken that _it hurt._

She couldn't find the strength in her to get a safe distance from the warehouse. Probably, after today, she'd have another experience- her own- to add to the list of nightmares.

 _::Megatron,::_ she whimpered. _::Get me_ out _of here!::_

She would take the pain and aches if he could give her the mental fortitude. The last coherent thought she had, before descending into mad-loss-pain-shock, was _Why?_

Her eyes flashed blue in the next instant, and she continued to scrape along the floor, unheeding of the pain. Over centuries, he'd felt far more pain than this girl. Still, he admired her strength.

It took a measure of trust to give up your body, no matter the consequences.

And trust took strength.

(He'd always been weaker than Optimus. In all the ways that mattered. He didn't really think he could forgive himself his cowardice, even if everything else disappeared magically.)

Lifting himself onto his- _her-_ forearms, he twisted his lips at the acidic burn. Jealousy was an ugly color whatever race it resided in, and he was no stranger to it. Physical discomfort was something more… _acceptable._

He deliberately ignored the thought that it would be Evelyn who paid the ultimate price in the toll he was demanding from her body.

Then two soldiers were there, and dragging him forward, and he was biting back all the curses he could feel because they were pulling on burns and it felt like they _were rubbing salt into his wounds._

"Let me go," he barked. A sharp twist of his shoulders left him mentally screaming in pain- but freed of their arms. The sneer on his face felt odd and proper at the same time. "Touch me again, and I'll _break_ you both."

"Hey, come on," one muttered. "We're only trying to help!"

The other one added, "And you look like shit."

Well. At least they were frank about their opinions.

Too bad he _didn't give a damn._

"Do I look like I care?" He asked disgustedly. Earthlings- with all their pathetic, organic bodies and terribly short lives- needed to earn his respect, just like every other species.

(He still thought Evelyn was foolish. Her folly could have killed her if he lied- but he hadn't and she had.

What fools they both were.)

He refused to move until the two who had deigned to speak to Evelyn came, and one glance told him that the fire he'd faced hadn't been the worst.

Ragged patches of hair stuck up around them, and they walked wearily until they saw him- _her._ It was Evelyn's heart, he'd tell himself later, that had rendered him blind to the true threat.

Ironhide grabbed him- what do pronouns matter, in truth- and hauled him up to the light. Banked rage flickered in his eyes, and Megatron felt an answering surge of something resembling outrage. The rumbling roar of his words only cemented his decision.

" _WHAT DID YOU DO?"_

Before he'd even finished, Megatron slipped back to the shadowy depths of Evelyn's mind and let her take back control. The scream pearling from her lips was-

- _loud._

And never-ending.

 _Well,_ Megatron thought, risking a flash of amusement. _I can't say that Ironhide's ever dealt with_ this _problem._

* * *

Will just _stared._

Because he had never heard such a long stream of wordless-syllables. Or rather, a scream pierced through with attempts at words that were choked-out before they could be stopped. He had read, somewhere, that some people could breathe through their noses while still talking.

Evelyn Monroe was one of those people.

Her brown eyes didn't see Ironhide- he'd bet _anything-_ or anything else. Too far gone in both madness and hysteria; she'd take some time to recover.

And Ironhide looked _so damn uncomfortable._ It was rather funny when he thought about it.

Except there was absolutely nothing amusing about the fear in her eyes. Or the burn-marks and ashes scraped along the skin. She looked _worse_ than them, and he couldn't really think of a reason for her to have done all this if she was going to be injured too.

 _So that idea's down the drain._ And Ironhide didn't seem to realize it. _Maybe…_

The thought was rather terrifying. Their government had struck a deal with the Autobots because, whatever else happened, they _feared_ them. Sure- they could be taken down.

But how many lives hung in the balance?

If Ironhide ever lost his temper long enough to go on a rampage…

Will scrubbed a hand down his face and flung the thought away. Now was _not_ the time to be thinking such thoughts. Not when Evelyn Monroe was still screaming, and Ironhide was shouting back.

It was a close thing, deciding who was louder.

* * *

She had never felt this kind of fear before.

Not all-consuming, not this… mindless _terror_ of everything and nothing. There was a darkness in her soul and a darkness outside, and while she could ignore one or the other when they mirrored each other it was impossible.

A lifetime of shrinking from the shadows- and at the first possibility she had leapt into the abyss.

Somedays, the irony was sharp enough to bleed.

She groped for words, any words at all. Something to describe her outrage and her fear and her hurt- but they wouldn't come. Only broken-edged screams, interspersed with the attempt at words. For the first time in her life, she was wordless.

She dealt with _that_ shock on top of everything else with louder screams.

Ironhide yelled back at her, voice growing louder and louder until she thought it could be echoing in her head. She screamed back, desperate to be heard for one moment.

If only someone would _see_ the fear, and _acknowledge that it existed._

If only… and she could rest. But courage and facades had become the norm for everyone- and she barely bit back hisses of regret that those who felt that fear were called cowards.

Then Ironhide tossed her in the air like a rag doll, and she landed, hard, onto his hand. The impact knocked the air out from her lungs, and the area was blessedly quiet.

" _And stay that way,"_ he snarled at her.

She didn't attempt to move away from him. What was the point? He was faster, smarter, infinitely more dangerous. All she felt was… numbness.

Just the cold, gut-tightening understanding- the heartbreaking, _intimate_ knowledge- that she was not good enough. That she was weak. In that moment, she was no longer a child, but neither was she anywhere near an adult.

Tears slipped down her face, and she didn't know why. She didn't know whether it was for the world's ignorance, her own fear, the injuries, or something… deeper. Something even she had no name for.

Her silence, though, seemed to frighten them more than her screams. At least she had proven she was alive. In the strange land between consciousness and dreams, it seemed that more possibilities existed than reality.

Phrases flickered out of existence almost before she heard them, but others filtered through.

_"Ironhide!"_

A bellow that must have come from a mech. She guessed Ratchet.

_"Save her."_

A demand. Likely Epps or Lennox.

And the last thing she heard-

_"Good… and… evil…"_

The regal statement could only have come from Prime. Amusement flickered at her nerves, dancing against her body- but the intensity only worsened the pain.

She spiraled into the black depths with no regrets.

* * *

 _Oh._ Ow. _What did I do-_

_-ah. That makes a certain amount of sense, I suppose._

Letting her eyes open slowly, she let the spinning lights slowly reform into proper, recognizable shapes. It felt good, that knowledge.

There was a warm bed at her back, and a smooth blanket over the rest of her body. A light twitch revealed that she was not attached to the bed- an oversight she was surprised had been allowed to occur.

The last time she'd been there, she had locked it down.

Still, a show of good faith would likely prove more beneficial than not. She wondered, dryly, who had decided that. Then, morbidly, who had told Ironhide.

…No. They would not have dared.

Sighing, she pushed herself upright and poked, lightly, at Megatron. He was asleep-

-and Optimus Prime stood inches away.

It was the sedatives, she'd tell herself later. It was the fault of the sedatives and too long without sleep and the tension of before.

(But she'd looked into the eyes of the beast that was her fear, and it was no more irrational and no less frightening than she had imagined.

She had survived, though, and that counted for something.

She had the strength to continue on.)

"There is no good and evil, Optimus," she told him, watching through half-lidded eyes. A smirk danced at the corner of her lips, and she let it twist her lips into something approaching a sneer. "The world is a dazzling display of light- and forcing it into shadows is not worthy of one such as… you."

Who he was... would be left to wonder. Whether insult or compliment, she had shadowed that well enough.

He startled, but recovered quickly. She didn't miss the glance he sent at the button that would call for Ratchet.

"Where," she continued carelessly, belying the gleam of careful calculation in her eyes, "is the Prime of before- the one who believed the best of all mechs, regardless of origin?"

Not that her own origin was blameless.

"He died," he said dryly. "Offlining was not the only crime in this war."

She tipped her head to the side slowly, revealing only casual arrogance, and none of the frothing pain. "Not all crimes were committed by Decepticons."

"And you would know that?" He challenged, almost angrily. She wanted to scream at his delusions. "Do you know what-"

"I know what I got into," she answered coolly. _Lie,_ screamed her heart. She didn't pause. "And I know what I offered him. You call yourself the good guys. Where's your tolerance?"

Buried, she knew. There had never and would never be tolerance among the Cybertronians. It seemed that it was humans, and humans alone, who could understand that word.

And there were no good guys. Not in war. Certainly not in this kind of a war.

"You earn tolerance," he said flatly.

"No," she said immediately. "You don't. Tolerance is something _you_ have. Not something someone _else_ has. That isn't tolerance. That's… forgiveness."

And, she realized with a touch of horror, there could be no forgiveness. Not after everything that had happened- not after all the lies and deaths and torture. There was too much bad blood on both sides of this war; the line in the sand Megatron had drawn centuries ago had deepened into a bloodied canyon.

And the only way to cross was by stepping on the bodies.

Hands fisted angrily.

A thought came, and it burned and seared and twisted everything inside her one way then another.

It _hurt._

But if it worked- if it _worked…_

 _Maybe,_ she thought with dawning hope, _they can survive this._

But she'd overstepped. Because he growled, and forced out, "You know nothing of me or my people. You know even _less_ of me."

"And that," she bit back, "is where you're wrong. I know you. I know you _better_ than most!"

Or at least- she had before.

"Ah," he sneered. It seemed so strange on his face. "Do you?"

"Yes," she said quietly. Anger simmered to something colder and far more dangerous. Oh- she played a dangerous game indeed. "I did. Once upon a time…"

He leaned closer. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw curiosity in his eyes as well as rage. "Once upon a time. What I wouldn't give, to go back to-"

She snorted. She didn't mean to, and the knowledge shouldn't have been there, because she was human, and she had barely touched on Megatron's memories, but it was there, and-

-she spoke.

"Don't be ridiculous. Maudlin was never a good look for you. _Me_ on the other hand…"

 _What. The. Hell!_ That should never have happened. Megatron was _asleep-_ what was going _on-_ she was in _control-_

Optimus hadn't spoken since, and with an effort she returned her attention to him. Eyes wide, he reached out a trembling arm and tore off the doctor's button.

 _"…Megatron?"_ He asked, sounding horrified.

Evelyn didn't really know what to say to that.

* * *

 


	4. Rebirth, and Manipulation

The sedatives should have warned her.

She didn't like the taste of them, and likely never would- cotton wool over a dry mouth- but the numbness and floating feeling was more disconcerting than disgusting. She should have _known_ that something was wrong, because she'd never had something so strong pumped into her system.

And, fool that she was, she attributed the lack of physical movement to the drugs.

Megatron had taken the hit of the drugs' mental affects- a strategic decision. He could cope better, and recover faster, and she needed to remain in control in order to keep themselves alive.

It still warmed something inside of her chest.

The last thing she remembered was screaming at Ironhide, then…

Memory flooded back, leaving her with a screaming headache.

 _Oh. I really should have known better._ She couldn't sense any cannons near her, though, and that whispered of two things: either Prime had accepted them both immediately, or he had made his decision on her fate too.

The last thing she remembered, now, was telling Prime the truth. Was hesitating at just the wrong moment, because Megatron had jerked at the name and stared through borrowed eyes at the brother he had expected to hate. Was the sudden influx of tranquilizers through her system- and Megatron yelling something even as he faded, spreading his mind over hers like a shield in a last-ditch attempt to save them both.

Was _staring_ at Prime, something too close to betrayal lurking in her gaze.

She really shouldn't have been that trusting. Letting her eyes flicker open, she twisted slightly, trying to stretch a cramping muscle in her back-

-and realized, with a jolt that was far too jarring- that her hands and limbs were chained to the bed, and she was not in the med bay.

 _Chained like a dog,_ she thought bitterly. And, turning her gaze to the blue and red mech in the corner, _will you whip me now?_

Unfair, perhaps. But she had no intention of _approaching_ fairness in this conversation. Any trust she'd offered had been thrown back in her face- in both Cybertronian and Earthen cultures. She had worked _hard_ to learn the social courtesies that the Cybertronians knew. She had no intention of accidentally insulting people- when the time came, her other actions would do that for her. She knew enough, now, that at least her actions didn't grate on their nerves without her meaning to.

A sharp yank upwards of her wrists only confirmed that there was no slack, and doing it again would like as not bruise her wrists.

Rage eclipsed even fear, at that moment.

"How dare you?" She asked emotionlessly.

Cold rage was good. Fire meant smoke, and things got lost in the confusion. In the blanketing white of icy, pure snow…

…her fury was as boundless as her imagination.

He appeared off-balance at the lack of feeling. She just waited, icily courteous.

"You house my _brother,"_ he rumbled. She bared her teeth in a mockery of a smile. "You are lucky I did not have you killed."

"Dead while unconscious," she said, ghastly smile widening. "How _noble."_

_"You do not deserve honor!"_

And that one stung- but also cemented her decision. Her lack of choices in that moment was nothing short of frightening.

"Don't I?" She purred. "Honorable death- to an innocent girl. Tell me, Prime-" she ignored the recoil in his steps at the name, "how would you feel, knowing you'd forever silenced a youngling's flame? An _innocent's_ body?"

His eyes narrowed. "You are not-"

Each word was a stab at a heart that was not her own. Even asleep, Megatron had feelings. When, she wanted to ask, had Optimus Prime begun to suspect that his brother was a monster?

Did it begin with the war- or far, far earlier?

She plucked the words with ease, copying Megatron's rhythm and cadence perfectly- lilies on a pond's surface. "I am what you made me. The moment you raise your cannons at her, _I will leave._ You will end an innocent, and will have to search for the next. And the next.

"Do you understand now?" The demon's head grin widened, until she felt it would fall off.

Necessary evils, she reminded herself. So many secrets between these two, and even she had trouble deciphering them. There was love and hate, loss and gain, _good and bad._

"There is no way in this you come out on top."

Oh, self-hatred.

What a good bedfellow you are.

* * *

Prime talked.

A lot.

Evelyn didn't know how to respond to that beyond the normal _leave me alone-_ but that didn't work when one was chained to a bed and there was only one person there.

She was allowed no amusements.

Eyes narrowing as she stared at Optimus, she weighed her options. She could tell the truth- she discarded that immediately. There was too much to lose if she did that. She could continue as she was…

His words tore through her mental fog.

"Ironhide does not know," he said, optics focused completely on her. There seemed to be a heavy weight in his eyes.

She snorted. "I thought as much. Seeing as I'm still alive."

"Ratchet does not know either."

That- brought her up short. _Why would he- ah._

"When did you first hear the stories?" She asked civilly. His eyes narrowed in confusion, and she felt her hands grow clammy.

 _Just stop now, Evelyn. While there are still_ some _secrets left._

"What stories?"

Nausea tugged at her stomach. "There _are_ no stories."

Only rumor. And even then, barely that. Had Megatron not seen the effects with his own optics, he'd never have believed it. Just murmurs across the universe of the madness that came to those forced against their programming- and the cruelty capable of medics was…

Frighteningly vicious.

And terrifyingly subtle.

Weeks- months, _years-_ after the initial meeting, a small feeling of illness. Perpetuating into a waterfall of darkness that resulted in… death.

Thousands killed- and he'd only recognized the pattern by accident.

The deaths had been laid, as everything, at his door.

He'd killed the mech, but not without ripping him to shreds first. His death had been one of the few deliberate killings Megatron had supported whole-heartedly.

There was a _reason_ he had forced her to cooperate with Ratchet. At first they had been vague, but after one of the worst nightmares she'd pressed.

Knowledge had not erased this fear.

"You just said-"

"It doesn't matter," she snapped. Took a deep breath, calming herself with an effort. "There are no stories, Prime, and you'll never listen to h- _me."_

Her defiant glare hid her fear at the slip. Whatever else she was, she was only a girl. A _child,_ where it mattered. And she was constructing a house of lies as high as the moon- and praying it wouldn't crash around her.

"When have I not listened?" He asked slowly.

_So, now, with the truth flung in your face, you listen._

"When have you _ever?"_ She retorted bitterly, before freezing.

_Wait. I never-_

Shock traced slippery fingers down her spine. _She_ wasn't bitter. She had no reason to be- she had implied that Megatron was in control; that was the _only_ reason she wasn't dead, she was sure- but while she didn't feel that bitterness, _Megatron did._

And she couldn't tell anyone.

Because if their minds were doing what she feared…

She was well and truly _damned._

She pushed aside the threatening panic carefully. Optimus was still talking- and she couldn't afford to let the tower she was huddling inside have any weaknesses.

"Tell me when… _brother,"_ Optimus said softly, and her hands fisted.

Was that _pleading_ in his optics? She found she didn't care.

Manipulation wasn't something only he could use. Closing her eyes, she tugged every scrap of knowledge Megatron had- every last bit- to the forefront of her mind. The weariness in her shoulders was no lie.

The fear was.

She _did not fear him._ She should; he held her life in his hands and the moment she became too costly he would let go.

It was why she had lied in the first place.

"It does not matter." She sighed, letting the slump of her shoulders communicate more than her words. "Let me sleep, Optimus. There are some things that can only be comprehended with… time."

 _Shit, why'd I say_ sleep _it was supposed to be_ offline _what the hell is going on-_

Her eyes drifted closed, and she forced back the panic with a firm hand.

_Survive today. Tomorrow will be different._

_::Megatron?::_ She called into the shadowed depths of her mind. _::Are you there? There are some…_ developments _that you should probably listen to…::_

* * *

He was angry.

 _::Two hours, youngling!_ Two hours! _And you_ reveal _our secrets? What the slag is_ wrong _with you-::_

 _::We have other problems,::_ she said flatly, cutting across his bluster. _::Big ones.::_

He snarled soundlessly. _::Bigger than death?::_

_::Our minds are integrating.::_

_::_ What!:: he barked, astonishment dragging across his mind.

 _::You heard me::_ she told him mockingly. _::Unless your mind is half-gone under the strain of_ earthen _sedatives?::_

He ignored her. _::That is quite… impossible. I have not-::_

_::Does it matter, the reason? It is happening. All we can do is weather the storm as best we can.::_

_::And if the storm results in your erasure?::_ He asked curiously, avoiding the main topic with practiced ease.

She tilted her head defiantly. _::That is not an option. I am not another tragedy for you to… exploit. You move against me, Megatron, and I'll kill myself.::_ A vicious smile. _::I'm just petty enough to do it, too.::_

He snorted, annoyance mixed with fondness slipping through him. Her arrogance, that she could _recognize_ any actions against her was… refreshing.

_::If you could recognize my movement.::_

_::I saw the emotions not my own::_ she shot back.

Which… was disconcerting. She should not have been able to. He had remedied much of his madness- but he'd always been unscrupulous. Joining their emotions had been the first step, a slow slide into his eventual take-over.

Except unconscious, he had stepped too far, too quick. She would be watchful, and wrathful to anyone who dared do what he had done.

Very, _very_ subtly, he moved the idea of control to the farthest reaches of his mind.

It would serve no purpose if anyone identified what he was doing.

 _::We are indeed a pair, Evelyn Monroe::_ he said dryly. _::Fools and chessmasters- playing for our own betterment. We shall see who shall win_ this _war.::_

 _::I promise::_ she responded coolly, _::to make this one slightly more interesting than your last.::_

* * *

She found his resulting flinch immensely satisfying.

It wasn't like she'd trusted him completely. Ever.

She wasn't _stupid._ Megatron was a selfish bastard at the best of times; the virus that had engulfed his mind and body was one that had just highlighted the worst of his characteristics. Evelyn had no illusions on that score.

But he was still kind, in his own manner. He laughed and teased and pressed; played games with her that she'd never dared tell anyone. Was everything she imagined she could be if she hadn't been stifled.

(The tiniest part of her admired him.)

Placing all your secrets in one person was recipe for failure. People _failed,_ and couldn't be expected to hold your back all the time.

Only, when failure led to death…

 _Depend,_ she'd trained herself, pruning words and actions fiercely, _on no one completely._

So she didn't tell him all her secrets. They weren't hidden as his were- behind intimidating walls of steel and iron and blood. He would only have seen that as a challenge, anyway; she placed everything she didn't want him to see in a corner filled with frozen fog that denied that such things even _existed_.

There were more things there than she'd thought.

Cold, tired not-quite-betrayal washed through her. She had not given her trust for it to be betrayed- he could not betray what did not exist- but that telling flicker of his mind said everything she'd wanted to know.

He was lying about their minds integrating.

She didn't know what for. It could have been just guilt, at having pushed her in this position- but she didn't think so. There was something dark in the depths of his eyes, and she hated that he dared to smile to her face with the festering lie behind the mask.

She could _feel_ the rotten edges.

Their partnership was one woven through her own foolishness- she'd assumed when she examined his memories that seeing the events would give her the motivations; on closer examination she (after a couple dreams) had realized that she'd made a fundamental leap of logic: he had told her the truth the first time they'd met. A rookie mistake that she had learned from.

That had been a gift in disguise, though. Her innocence that day had led Megatron into a false sense of cockiness that even now pervaded their conversations.

She had learned to read him with a mix of fear and love.

Hers wasn't the only mistake. He had landed _in her head_ because he hadn't been able to manage a virus. Hopefully, the virus had stopped at him- if it hadn't, she didn't know how to fix it. Unless all infected mechs kept a small piece of themselves sane and dissociated as Megatron did- he claimed it helped him see the methods of manipulation, etc. that a true High Protector needed- they were done for.

He had no single motivation for something. A truly complicated person, he was harsh and demanding and ruthless. He was every inch a monster, and she shuddered to think what the virus could have achieved had Megatron not fought so strongly.

And he'd _fought_ because even if he was achieving his goals, he was doing so not under his own terms.

 _Selfish bastard,_ she thought almost fondly. Except there wasn't anything fond about sharing a mind with him, and she would have to be even more wary now than ever.

When had she last turned around, and not seen enemies in the shadows?

 _::I know what we should do::_ he told her. _::But it all depends on your acting…::_

 _::I can act::_ she assured him. _::But what for?::_

_::You set us on this path, youngling. I am simply ensuring we survive. If Prime decides there is no hope for your existence, it is far more dangerous. Give him drops of hope, dribble it onto his lips as water to a starving man._

_::He will answer you completely, I swear.::_

* * *

**Twenty Minutes Later:**

"No!" The girl twisted on the bed, body lifting half off the table and then falling back on. "Let me _go!"_

Her eyes snapped open, blue competing with the brown for a brief moment before turning wholly earthen. Face twisted in what seemed like confusion, she yanked her arms upward, and let them fall back, giving a hoarse cry.

"What- what's goin' on?" She asked, eyes building to tears. "Where am I? _Why am I chained!"_

The last question was less question and more hysterical realization. He winced inwardly at the fear in her eyes.

_So the girl is still there after all. Even if Megatron resides in her._

He couldn't find it in him to pity her, strangely enough. She had chosen this path- and Megatron would not have chosen a girl who would not further his goals.

(Optimus didn't know that sympathetic souls meant _similar,_ not _useful.)_

He thought a small part of him hated her. She represented everything his memories of Megatron before the fall had become: strong, courageous, _kind._

_Where did I go wrong, brother?_

"You are chained to the bed," he told her flatly, not bothering to conceal the edge of patronization, "because you house one of the most evil… _constructs_ in the history of the universe." Watching closely, not a hint of discomfort crossed her face at constructs. He frowned and went on. "Tell me you do not deserve that."

She looked up at him, eyes guilelessly brown. "I _don't!"_ She twisted to the side, rattling the chains. "I've- all I've- _everything_ I've done is to _help_ you! What was that- that mech? Why would you- how dare you! Jazz! That's his name! _I saved him!_ I can't- why would you even _think_ that I could _do_ something like this!"

But he stopped listening after that.

"What," he said very precisely, because he couldn't believe his ears but neither could he control the rush of _Jazz-_ "did you say about Jazz?"

She shrank back onto her pillows, mouth opening into a slight squeak. Nothing more came out, and he retreated after a moment.

She could be saying it to get him out of the room. It could be a ploy- but there wasn't anything she could _do_ anyhow. She was trapped, and if that was a lie then the only possible reason for it was cruelty.

And Megatron had never done _anything_ for just one reason.

On his way to the med-bay, he called Ratchet. Best to have a fellow Autobot is anything went south.

(He ignored the fear rumbling in his spark chamber.)

* * *

"Did we do the right thing?"

_::We did the only thing we could. Survival is infinitely more important than trust.::_

"The two are not completely separate."

_::We are in a unique set of circumstances.::_

"Heh. How many more times will we use that excuse?"

_::As many as we need to.::_

* * *

Cold air rushed around him as he tapped the correct code to enter the room.

It was dark inside- empty. There was nothing more than a single table, and Jazz's body lying limply on it.

He might have ignored everything and walked out, had he not sensed the ozone-sharp scent of the All-spark.

 _Oh._ In his shock, he had not realized what this meant: she had needed the All-spark to resurrect Jazz. _She stole from me!_

"By Primus," Ratchet breathed behind him. "Is that the _All-spark,_ Optimus?"

"I believe so." He moved in, picking his way across the floor carefully. "Our friend in my rooms has more secrets than we expected, Ratchet. She is… dangerous."

Which was an admission of suspicion that was as blunt as he could make without telling everything.

"She said Jazz is alive," he elaborated. "Seeing this- I'm inclined to agree. If, hypothetically, a mech was brought back, what would his state of regeneration be?"

Ratchet frowned, reaching for near-forgotten memory. "He would survive. But the injuries I had not yet fixed in Jazz were rather major. It will likely take a few tweakings to bring him out of Stasis Lock. But… less than an hour?" Moving forward, he tapped Jazz's shoulder. "His spark is back, though. That much I can tell."

Optimus nodded. "Do so. I shall get the rest of the team together. This is a momentous occasion for all of us. We shall be here to greet our fallen brother, old friend."

Ratchet busied himself with the tools and dove into rebuilding Jazz.

As he did so, his mind wandered- he'd been called the best medic in _Cybertron,_ for Primus' sake. He could do this in his _sleep._ And he had always been- not just smart- but rather sharp. Able to look and decode and understand things easily that took others hours.

Secrets didn't stay secrets if he put his mind to it- and all the pieces of the puzzle were laid out for him. All Ratchet had to do was use his head, and _think-_

"…Oh, Optimus," he murmured, welding a small seam closed. "It is no wonder that you have kept your silence for so long. Secrets, indeed."

Not that he was worried that the others would realize it.

If everyone kept their minds, Ironhide would never know. He was the only one who would react the worst- the one who would not let Optimus explain.

* * *

**Forty minutes later:**

"That's all the… modifications," Ratchet said. "All we can do now is wait."

Turning, he was startled at the large congregation outside. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Wheeljack were all clustered in a small corner on one end, conversing in low tones. Skids and Mudflap were not in sight; most likely they were bothering Red Alert at the comms unit, with Lennox and Epps.

But Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Optimus were staring at him- and by default, Jazz- with expressions of hope, longing, and so much love- he sometimes forgot that Jazz had been close friend, confidante, brother, you name it- to all of them.

Optimus might have been the heart, Ironhide the guts, Bumblebee the hope, Ratchet himself the caretaker- but Jazz had been the soul.

Those months after his death had not been easy. Had the others not arrived; had there not been continuing skirmishes; had the world not needed them to be strong-

Well. It served nobody to dwell on maybes. Jazz was with them, and Ratchet would be happy just for that.

Slowly, time ticked on. The heart-stopping tension of before dwindled, too, to manageable levels. The mechs waited in stifled silence, and _Jazz did not move._

Ratchet began wondering if he'd made a mistake.

"Did you hear that?" Ironhide asked gruffly. "Over- there."

Ratchet shook his head, though something shifted in his mind; why would he think-

Ah. Ironhide pointed beyond Jazz's body. But in a rounded metal-enclosed room…

Acoustics were strange.

"He's awakening," Ratchet whispered. Everybody froze.

"Are you sure?"

He only nodded. Watching, fervently, as a finger twitched on his right hand. He didn't think he'd ever again remember the shock-bleeding-happiness. Stepping forward, he pressed a hand against his chassis.

"Breathe, Jazz," he said, softer than ever before. "You are safe. You are among the Autobots. What do you remember last?"

No answer. It was okay, though- he hadn't expected one. He repeated the sentences continuously. There was no telling when Jazz would come online, and if his first reaction was fear it could only injure him. This was safer.

Eyes flashing a brilliant blue, Jazz's eyes opened. They were duller than normal, with undertones of white- he supposed from the infusion of the Allspark. It had been so very long since the last resurrection.

So much information had been lost.

Slowly- painfully slowly- Jazz lifted his arm. The expression of dawning hope in Optimus' optics made something in him twist.

Because in that hope was both Jazz's survival… and Megatron's redemption.

"J-just goes t-to… prove t-that you're all slag-ging _idiots,_ R-ratchet."

The stuttering erased the stinging tone in his words, but the wry humor was all Jazz. Ratchet hid a smile. "So we can safely assume you know everything?"

His eyes rolled to the side, taking in Optimus and Ironhide and Bumblebee; ignoring everyone else. "Frag y-yeah. 'Til w-when Megatron r-ripped m-me apart."

Ratchet froze. So did Optimus.

Ironhide frowned, and Bumblebee narrowed his optics.

"Say, Prime," Ironhide rumbled. "How did you say Jazz got his body back?"

Because there was only one way for them to return- and everyone knew Megatron had ripped Jazz in half. Where was the lie, Ironhide was asking- for Megatron never regretted anything, and even if he had he was dead.

(Who were the liars?)

And Optimus… Optimus must have _hated_ the girl.

Later, everyone assumed that it was just because he had been running on fumes, and was exhausted. Ratchet knew better.

There was a weight in his optics, as he purposely said, "You know how, Ironhide."

And Ironhide _roared._

 _What,_ Ratchet thought in numbed disbelief, _did the girl_ do _to you, Optimus?_

For he had just assigned her a death sentence.

"W-what's goin' on?" Jazz lifted himself onto his elbows, and levelled a glare at them when nobody answered- most likely because they were shocked and… angry. "Prime? _Ratchet?"_

Then, with slow-rising horror, "…anything to do with Evelyn?"

Ratchet froze. "How did you know that name?"

"She _saved me."_ He said, almost derisive except he was _Jazz_ and was never condescending. "I _talked_ to her. And-" he broke off, before rallying sharply. "And I'm her _Protector."_

Optimus looked shocked. "Protector?"

"Yeah, so Prime, if he's off t'do wha' I think, I'm gonna-"

"We need to stop him," he said, whirling around to meet the other mechs' gazes. "We need to stop him _now."_

* * *

Evelyn sank against the pillows when Prime left, hands shaking. Lies on lies on lies- and the truly terrifying part was that they were no longer becoming lies. Her masks were becoming _herself,_ and she didn't know how to stop it.

She was getting used to the fear.

Cold realization, mixed with sharp-edged dreams.

She had, once upon a time, wanted to _be_ someone. With the Autobots… she was becoming one. How ironic, that the saying _be careful what you wish for_ was no more and no less than what she felt?

_::Staying still is a death sentence.::_

She chewed on her lip to bite back the frustrated scream building in her throat.

 _::We are_ chained to the bed. _What do you want me to do?::_

_::Think, femme!::_

It was no longer youngling, she noted distantly.

 _::There must be_ something _we can use. We cannot depend on Prime to protect us. It will be far, far worse if they question him. Lies do not come easily to him.::_

She almost said, to everyone but you- but that was petty and cruel, and served no purpose.

 _::We are chained to the bed. That does not mean that the_ bed _is chained to the_ floor. _If we can-::_

_::-drag it to the side-::_

_::-there's a welding torch on the side!::_

He smirked in satisfaction. _::So there is a mind somewhere inside of you. Use it more often.::_

His imperious statement was met with a mix of indignation- she was not a _child_ to be ordered by him- and affection- he meant it in a different manner than she had taken it.

 _::You'll need to control my muscles::_ she warned. _::This will… hurt.::_

And then, she tipped the bed over.

The bruises on her wrists ached. There were still unhealed second-degree burns on her upper arms that were rubbed raw.

And she didn't know if she had the strength to pull the metal bed- especially when it had no wheels.

Megatron, on the other hand, not only _knew_ she could do it- he _made_ her.

 _Pain is only a symptom,_ she forcibly reminded herself. _And you can work past that._ Move. _Because it is your_ life _on the live, and you need to survive._

_Weakness is for those who can afford it._

Ten feet. That was how much she had to drag herself and the bed. The chains cut into her ankles and bit into her wrists with bloodying force within five.

By seven, tears were running down her face.

By nine, she would have given anything to stop the agony.

By the time she got to the torch, her muscles were jumping from the pain and she was sure that had Megatron not numbed most of the pain she would have been in the throes of a seizure.

"Please," she managed through broken lips. She wanted to tell Megatron to take control.

But he had just proven he couldn't be trusted. So she bit back the words with ruthless efficiency, and gave him control of her hands.

" _Do it."_

The welding torch seared some of the skin on her upper arm, before he finally broke it. The other three went smoother.

Slumped, bloodily, against the ground, she let her tears and whimpers out. There was no reason to keep silent. They could not hear her- and better yet- see her.

Prime's quarters had no cameras.

"The enemy of my enemy is _not_ my friend," she croaked, after the worst had passed. Megatron retreated further. "And the next time you say so, you fragging _brute_ of a mech, I'll _personally_ ensure your dreams are broken, and you face a painful _death._."

She did not add _as you have,_ but it was acknowledged the same.

Rising to her feet, she stumbled over to the bed.

 _::We cannot leave::_ she realized. _::If we do, the Decepticons will likely recognize the Energon poisoning. We cannot leave, and we cannot stay. We have made enemies of your_ entire race, _Megatron. What the slag were you_ thinking? _::_

_::I was thinking that survival today can mean survival tomorrow. And we cannot leave- but that does not mean we shall not have weapons.::_

_::Make weapons, you mean?::_ She asked bitterly. _::And do not forget that life is not only survival. Give me some time to recover.::_

He sighed. _::Yes.::_

Rising, and ignoring the way she nearly stumbled to her knees from the agony in her ankles, she made her way to his desk. The top was cleared- but one of the drawers held a few plasma guns. Taking one, she shoved it into a makeshift holster of leather bedding.

She might not be the best shot- but she could hit any mech closer than twenty feet with ease.

And all she needed was one shot; she didn't want to kill them, or even disable them. Only distract them, for a few seconds, while she made her escape.

Curling back onto the bed, she tucked her chin in, and closed her eyes.

_Mom. I miss you. I'm sorry for making you worry- but there are kinda more problems here than there. I need some… time. And a miracle._

_But you'll see._

_If it's the last thing I do, I'll come back home. You deserve that much._

The bellowing roar- probably from the other end of the base- knocked her out of the thoughts.

_::How long was I asleep?::_

_::Longer than expected::_ he answered tersely. _::Too long.::_

 _::Then-::_ she broke off. She meant to ask then why didn't you wake me, but the hint of embarrassment answered it well enough. His caring- and his ruthlessness- were parts of she had too, and while they were paradoxically clashing, they were realistic. _::It's Ironhide, isn't it?::_ She couldn't have hidden the glum edge to her tone if she'd wanted to.

_::Yes::_

_::He knows, doesn't he?::_

_::Yes.::_

_::We're dead, aren't we?::_

_::I wouldn't say that.::_

She glared, and Megatron huffed in amusement. She was tempted to yell at him- but she knew that humor was his way of coping with the stress.

And really, she had started it.

_::Should I hide?::_

_::No need. He's at the door.::_

At the door. More like, broke _down_ the door. She forced herself back onto the bed, and barely heard Megatron's hissed warnings.

Her hand closed around the gun's shaft.

He slammed forward another four steps, and she felt- rather contradictorily- calmer the closer he got. His cannons were not yet pointed at her- and she wouldn't move to aim without a threat first.

"You're Megatron," he spat, and she let her eyes drag upwards to meet his optics.

Bare brown met flashing blue.

"Yes," she whispered.

A blade whipped out, and even as it scraped down the length of her throat, she had lifted the plasma gun and pointed it unerringly at his left knee.

"You kill me, and my finger _will_ press this trigger." Her face remained blank. If she died, let it not be said she turned away from the inevitable. "You'll never walk again."

"Ratchet can fix me."

She let a disdainful look edge onto her features. "He can _fix_ a plasma gun's damage to your _sub-femoral Energon artery."_ Are you _stupid?_ She asked silently.

He growled, and pressed harder. She refused to move back- and blood dripped fine red lines onto the cotton sheets. Her eyes didn't waver.

"Ironhide! _Stand down!"_

Neither of them moved, unwilling to back down.

_"Ironhide!"_

That… wasn't Prime.

Megatron's borrowed heart shattered under the false hope- and Evelyn forced back the whimpers with disturbing difficulty.

Slowly, Ironhide stepped away. She didn't shift at all, all-too-aware that one movement too much and he'd kill her in the mood he was in.

When he was finally a foot away, she slumped down, tremors taking over her body.

(Her bluff had not been called.)

"Where did you get that gun?" One barked angrily. She balked at answering- mainly because she knew that the only things she'd be able to say would be hysterical laughter.

…which wasn't words at all. Damn it, her mental processes _shouldn't_ have been compromised so early!

_::Breathe, Evelyn. You are not yet dead- and they stopped him from the worst. Your argument was convincing, and your acting even more so. Calm down, and let them draw their own conclusions.::_

She dragged in a painfully cold breath, but felt something in it calm her racing heart down. Another- and she was capable of proper speech.

"I'm in Prime's rooms," she said levelly. "Did you really think I wouldn't go… exploring?"

"And _how_ did you know you were in my rooms?"

She bared her teeth. They were all fools- albeit fools with guns. She let that disgust hone her sarcasm. "You were _in it."_

"And it has nothing to do with the stealing of the Allspark?" He asked dryly.

She folded her arms, and let smug patronization _drip from her pores._ "Do you have any proof?"

"It's empty," Sunstreaker said flatly. The others turned to stare, and he held the gun with a loose-fingered grip. "Blank."

"You mean-" Ratchet turned and looked at her, who was staring around at them like they were irritating pests. "It was all a _bluff?"_

"What, you thought I'd actually point a proper gun at the mech?" She asked incredulously, trying not to remember Megatron's insistence on that very thing. "And you thought I had a _survival ability?"_

 _::Trust::_ she'd argued, _::is more important right now than anything else. Prove that there is more inside of us than ruthless survival skill, and they shall give us- most likely unconsciously- the trust to achieve what we want.::_

It had been closer than she'd wanted, that argument.

* * *

Optimus stared at her, with something approaching fondness.

…And fear.

Because he'd scanned her upon entry- and absolutely no Decepticon signatures were visible. So, either Megatron had learned to hide that- a terrifying possibility- or she was completely human.

…which was even more frightening.

But she'd stalled Ironhide long enough to let the others enter, and was still alive. She had carved a place of safety for herself- if she was human- and played the lies and the secrets like a master; in the end, hadn't she gotten what she wanted?

A Protector, out of the mech she'd saved. Respect, from the humans on base. And _life-_ from the very Autobots who would like nothing more than to kill her for the mind inside her.

Optimus could feel hints of bitter respect, woven with stinging sharp anger.

(There was only so much he could do to break her; she would not bend and he could not kill her. He could not protect his people- and that _hurt.)_

Her eyes hid a sharp mind, and faced him calmly. His Energon readings spiked sharply after a moment- matching the swirl of blue in her eyes.

 _Lies,_ he thought in disbelief. _It was all lies._

There was only one reason for the Energon levels to rise- if they hadn't done so already. Joined with the blue eyes, he knew there was only one possibility:

She had lied. Not _Megatron_ had lied.

Evelyn Monroe lied, and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

She tilted her head at him, a sharp smirk curling around the corners. He sighed, in response. There was too much trouble brewing around her- and too much danger. She not only knew too much; she couldn't be hurt.

"Prime?"

He almost snarled at the mech, before biting back the scathing words. "Yes?"

Sideswipe was watching the goings-on at the center of the room with an odd expression on his face. Turning, he asked curiously, "What's a Protector?"

The fight drained out of him. "It is easy to forget that this war has been going on for so very long… there were many crimes committed- to all of us. Not just offlining," he told him gruffly, thousand-fold memories threatening to cave in on him. " _Knowledge._ So much lost, because there were things we needed to know to survive till the next day- the next year- the next battle. Protectors was one of those."

"What's the difference between Protectors and Guardians?" Bumblebee asked.

"Guardians is the colloquial term for Protectors; it is the bastardization of what Protectors were originally designed for," Optimus explained. "Now, it is considered far more a legal term than anything else. Protectors… do not form a natural bond with their Protectee. Some other power must- _force_ it on them. The only ones with the power for it, that I know of-" he trailed off, staring at the girl.

She looked up at the silence, and took in their awed looks.

"No," she said acerbically. "I did not speak to the Primes. I spoke to _Jazz,_ who told me _he_ spoke to them. I have not met them."

He frowned and turned away. "It is a forcible bond."

"Sounds… harsh," Sideswipe muttered, with the air of someone quoting something.

Evelyn gave a sharp bark of laughter, sliver-edged, but didn't say anything.

"Jazz will want to see you," Ratchet said quietly to her. "If you stay calm and don't stress your body, you should be good for walking that distance."

"Thank you," she said, sounding _grateful_. "That sounds wonderful."

As they moved out, Optimus felt alien emotions of anger- but it was mixed with a slow hope for a better future. If Megatron had truly changed…

…his _brother_ was repatriated.

 _Nothing_ could make his day brighter, than this dream.

* * *

 


	5. The Poetry of Fear

"Jazz?" Evelyn asked softly, uncharacteristically hesitant. Moving in slowly- painfully aware of the bright curiosity in _everyone's_ optics- she made her way over to his side.

He shifted, optics meeting hers. "Femme," he greeted.

_::Ignore them. Play this part, Evelyn!::_

_::Megatron-::_

::Now!::

Steeling herself, she dropped the hesitancy and slouched forcibly into comfortable teasing.

"Not going to ask how I am?" Jazz asked.

"You've looked better," she said wryly. "You looked better when you were _dead."_

The choked silence spreading through the room left her lips twitching- and the mechs distracted. The twitching lips threatened to become a full-blown smile.

"Do they not teach tact on earth?" Someone whispered.

Ratchet turned to glare- and she used that moment to tilt her head at Jazz, asking him silently, _are you okay?_ He paused, optics skittering away for a telling moment, before offering her a brilliant smile.

 _Oh no. You did_ not _just think that I'm incapable of telling your lies from the truth._

 _::Megatron?::_ She sent flatly, _::I know exactly how to deal with this.::_

 _::…a good plan, in some senses::_ he replied, tone flatter than usual- she suspected from an attempt to hide his laughter. She hid that knowledge away, like the precious gemstone it was, and waited. _::Go for it.::_

 _Little Autobot, I am coming for_ you.

"How did you compensate for the wearing of the wires in his left leg?" She asked Ratchet abruptly, turning to meet his gaze.

He frowned. "What breakage?"

Glancing back at Jazz, she deadpanned, "Did you want to walk again?"

"I'm _fine,_ femme!" He glared back at her. She arched an unimpressed brow back. "I _am!"_

"The wires in your left leg have frayed to the point that I could strip them and use them to power the lights in this room," she pointed out acidly. "And your Energon readings have dropped to near-dangerous levels. I also have a host of other injuries of yours tucked away in my walnut sized brain- but if you want to continue this rigmarole, by all means, _continue protesting."_

Someone snickered. She ignored them, instead staring at Ratchet, who scanned Jazz, and frowned deeper, unhappy lines grooving around his… what would have been in a human, forehead.

"I cannot fix this," he said flatly. "The wires are too delicate; the allosteric binding too complicated for any automated drones- if only you'd _said_ something, you slagging idiot of a mech! Now you can't even-"

"Hey-" Jazz broke in, indignantly. "I _just_ woke up from _death,_ so-"

"Lucky for all of you," Evelyn murmured, cutting them off clearly, "I _can_ fix this."

And with that, she reached up and pulled out a few wires from his hip.

Jazz yelled, Ratchet cursed, Ironhide fired up his cannons…

…and Evelyn pulled herself up onto the berth, letting Megatron take control of her arms, and began flipping through Jazz's medical charts mentally. The wires she'd tugged out had been for a reason: Jazz could no longer feel his legs, a two-fold blessing. One- he wouldn't be able to leave or jerk around while she worked on him, and two- he couldn't feel the pain he would have otherwise.

She ignored the cannons with disturbing ease.

"What… the… _frag,_ femme?" Jazz forced out, scowling down at her. That pull, she suspected, had been rather surprising, but not as painful as he was making it out to be. He was only complaining so much because…

Her smile took him by surprise. "Stop whining," she advised, before dropping down to continue work inside his body.

Jazz's jaw dropped.

"And consider this payback," floated up to him.

He tried to form words no less than four times, before giving up on it and flopping back ungracefully.

"For what?" That was Ratchet. He would have to thank him sometime later.

"… I don't quite see how that's your business, Doctor. But if my patient accepts, I'll tell you later. When I'm _not_ working on stuff that can paralyze him."

Dead silence filled the room, and Jazz resisted the urge to giggle hysterically. Nobody had _ever_ refused to tell Ratchet something like this. His amusement grew with each passing moment.

His Protectee was crazy.

Insane.

Madder than a bag of cats.

_Ah, well. I've always liked a little dash of madness thrown in. What's life without a little spice, eh?_

He just wished the girl he'd chosen wasn't so… violent. And he strongly- _strongly-_ suspected that life with Evelyn Monroe would not only be tasty- it would be overwhelming.

* * *

It could have been a comical sight, in Optimus' opinion, had everything not been so _serious._

They were all waiting, twitchy armed, for the girl to come out so they could _talk_ to her. Except she hadn't left- hadn't even said anything, in fact- and Jazz was no help. He had gone into recharge a few minutes after the girl!

…her head popped up, catching Ratchet's gaze and ignoring everybody else efficiently.

As if they didn't matter.

He resisted the urge to glare at her like an irked sparkling, and left it to Ratchet to decide what to do.

She didn't even notice the way their cannons were pointed away.

"Do you have a radium-tipped fine-ground drill?" She asked brusquely.

Ratchet just stared. "…you don't know what you're doing," he said flatly.

"I know very well what I'm doing," she replied, sounding irritated. "And if you don't have the proper tools just say so. It isn't like it isn't _shameful_ for a CMO to be lacking the supplies- oh no- but that's infinitely better than delaying me out of some professional irked _pride_ when I'm working on a thrice-slagged _transistor box."_

Shocked silence seemed to be the norm for this girl, Optimus thought faintly.

Ironhide wasn't amused. " _Get out,"_ he spat at her- raising his cannons in a fairly useless gesture.

A gesture Optimus could have told him wouldn't work, and only served to bring out the acerbic side she'd hidden so well those first few days.

The mocking smirk seemed engineered to annoy.

"What are you going to do?" She asked sweetly. "Shoot Jazz?"

He felt a chill of horror- but also a touch of respect- as her plan revealed itself.

Only one looking for other motives could have seen it, and even then it was hidden amidst trails of false knowledge and carefully-cultivated personas.

 _When in doubt,_ he reminded himself, _go with the facts._

Inside Jazz, she could not be harmed. Truth. She could only benefit from a mobile Protector. Truth. She was fixing him with a mix of arrogant statements and threats. Truth.

The question was _why._

Fixing him with threats and smugness- not a smart choice for a girl surrounded by aliens six times her height and infinitely more dangerous. She had lied, in his rooms. She had lied, _so many times._ Except with it, it was a safe assumption that no one would look past the brash exterior to the truth underneath.

In one fell swoop, she erased her past weaknesses in favor of curdled hatred.

Ratchet growled, and Optimus was brought back to the present. Some part of him wanted to interfere- but he also wanted to know how she would react. Her eyes were narrowed now, teeth bared in a lazy acknowledgement of their abilities.

 _Oh, this girl was_ dangerous.

Expression cooling ten degrees, she met Ratchet's gaze head-on. "Tell me," she said disgustedly, "that the full extent of your plan was not to make me focus on one of you so the other could sneak up behind me."

"No," Ratchet smirked. "Our plan was just finished."

Watching, numbly, as he flipped a switch, Optimust traced the wires: up, down, left, left, down…

"Oh, slag," someone cursed behind him, and he barely forced back the agreement.

They were plugged into Jazz. And it was _electricity._

She would- at best- be forced into recharge from the sudden influx. But that amount of electricity in an organic's system…

Would like as not burn some of her brain cells.

Goodbye, he bid sadly, to the brilliant mind, even as he turned a scathing look on his two subordinates-

-only to catch the befuddled look on Ratchet, and the completely _self-satisfied_ expression on Evelyn's.

Which could only mean one thing.

"…He can _get into the systems?"_ He barked at them.

Evelyn directed her look back to him, and flashed another one around them all before diving back to work on Jazz.

"Damn," Sideswipe muttered, "if that girl doesn't remind me of Sunstreaker."

And if that didn't just about sum up the day, Optimus didn't know what did.

_Dangerous, indeed._

* * *

She wasn't thinking about anything other than fixing Jazz, at that moment. Flippancy was as much work to present convincingly as anything, and while acting was easy for her, it was not something that she found _fun._ The exhaustion- both mental and physical- was dragging at her, injuries flicking at her burns and scrapes.

Megatron numbed them at her orders.

She would not be able to sleep, not without someone she could trust. And if nothing else, Jazz was her Protector. He could be trusted to watch her, and that meant that he needed to be able to watch her.

Anger seemed to be a normal emotion, nowadays.

 _::Pull out that blue wire::_ Megatron ordered. She nodded and did so. _::If you can strip those two over there and… slag.::_

_::What is it?::_

He hissed in frustration. _::You need to cut_ into _the wall, Evelyn. Cut into- and shift the bundle underneath. Apparently the fool has had a… metal piece forced into him, and Ratchet hasn't noticed.::_ As an afterthought, he added, _::no wonder he was favoring his right when we battled. I wondered.::_

 _::Before you ripped him apart?::_ She asked dryly.

_::Must you always add that caveat?::_

She sighed. _::How did Ratchet miss the damn thing? He must have had-::_

_::It is a small piece, by our standards. Probably he would never have found it had there not been a reason for such an invasive surgery. Even I did not find it-::_

_::And you have so much_ more _experience than Ratchet at treating mechs::_ she muttered.

Megatron swore suddenly. _::Get it out, Evelyn!_ Now! _It's_ digging into his wires! _Now, femme!::_

 _::I'm on it::_ she said grimly, levity disappearing. _::Use your x-ray sensors. I want him fully functional, Megatron!::_

_::Then do as you're told, and reach!::_

* * *

It shouldn't have been possible, they'd later tell themselves.

Jazz _screamed,_ suddenly, entire body jerking around in a futile attempt to move forward. Ratchet snarled, and Ironhide growled, but nobody could _do_ anything, and Optimus could just _see_ the edges of awe and respect fading.

She was torturing her Protector, they thought.

And he wasn't quite sure why he didn't agree.

It had something to do with the fact that Jazz wasn't crying out- though to be fair, he was probably exerting a lot of control for that- and also with his surety that the _girl_ was the one in control, not Megatron, but it all dwindled down to one fact:

She had not yet done something against them.

So he would trust her- conditionally- for now.

(But Primus help him, if she hurt Jazz… He'd rip her apart with his bare hands first.)

* * *

 _::Slag::_ she bit out, _::I need to cut this open. D'you have the welding mechanics for it?::_

 _::On the way::_ Megatron confirmed coolly. _::It shouldn't take any longer than a couple minutes. I've hacked into the base. But- we need to take it out_ right now _if he's going to make it.::_

Her eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip in concentration. _::I should... I'm training to be a medic. Calm breaths, Evelyn. This'll be fine.::_

Reaching, she let her hands dig through the fined edges of the peeled-back metal, and prayed she wouldn't have to go through another slice. It had been necessary- but not necessarily wise. Her face was damp with both sweat and exhaustion, struggling to finish the job.

Reaching, she tugged upwards. _::Stop all sweat and oils in the right hand.::_

He did so mutely, and she shook off the odd feeling after a moment. Seconds mattered, here, and she needed to finish this. Twisting her hand, she gave one final tug- and it came loose.

_That's that part finished. Now-_

A low, pitiful whine rumbled through his chassis. Evelyn let her eyes grow cold, and stumbled to her knees.

She had been the one to force Megatron into it. _Build another mask,_ she'd said, _give them another layer._

_Not kill my only Protector!_

_::Megatron!::_

He gave a regretful shake of his- mental- head. _::There is nothing more for us to do. Even if we weld it shut... what in the name of_ Primus _is that?::_

'That' was a bubbling feeling in her chest. It migrated lower, hardening into her stomach, and she felt herself grow nauseated at the next shake of his body.

_::Megatron!::_

Hunched over, on herself, she breathed heavily. _::Megatron!::_

He was yelling something. She couldn't hear it over the dull roar of blood in her ears, and stumbled, falling to her knees. Probably bruising Jazz in the process.

 _Jazz!_ Eyes widening against the pain that now encompassed her entire chest and stomach, she let out a hissed breath. _He's… I can't- Oh Primus help me._

Slapping a hand against the inside metal- and praying she remembered Megatron's memories correctly- she said, "Jazz? _Protector?"_

The world faded to darkness.

* * *

"Where am I?"

It echoed around her in cool tones, further away each time until they faded altogether. Wrapping a hand around her waist, she waited.

She shivered.

It was cold, and damp- like a cave, she thought distantly. Like she was hidden in a cave, and a thousand-foot drop was _right behind her._

"I… am not afraid of the dark," she quoted softly, biting back the fear already tightening her shoulders. Then she thought of how that saying ended, and had to hold back a snort; it was definitely better to laugh than cry when she was caught up in such… life-threatening situations.

_I think it says something when I don't start to cry when my life is in danger._

Reaching upwards, she tugged at a strand of her hair.

_::Megatron?::_

Silence. Which meant she was alone in her head- and, by logic, not in the physical world. Seeing as the only other realm she'd heard of was the metaphysical realm- and she would not, not, _not_ consider the philosophical aspects of this- she was probably lost somewhere there.

_Too bad nobody know that much about this…_

Thought it wouldn't surprise her if the Cybertronains had. They hated the mysteries of the universe humans took for granted with a fervor that was… incomprehensible, to her. Not that they wanted to _solve_ those mysteries. That she could understand. But hate them?

Never.

Mysteries were aweing; they held reasons for the continued existence of people on the world. It made her wonder if anybot had ever asked themselves why they were alive.

…on second thought, she could guess what happened to mechs like that.

Insane asylums were not a thing that only existed on earth.

And- well. Megatron, if he knew, would be shocked by her decision: she had no desire to become Cybertronian; if anyone asked she would actually _deny_ the opportunity.

Living forever? Wonderful. Until your family died around you, and you were forced to move on past them.

Knowing everything on the internet? Knowledge was power was a common maxim in all worlds, but _too much_ knowledge was also detrimental. Case in point, Megatron's crash-landing into the Arctic.

Guns? Size? Speed? She had no use for such things. She was no warrior, to live a life amidst guns and guts and blood, and she knew that while it was _selfish,_ it was her decision.

She would not kill, she'd sworn, silently to herself. She would not kill anyone.

It was a maxim, holding her guilt and grief at bay. A flimsy wall, and one that couldn't last forever. But it existed, and she was pragmatic enough to ignore the encroaching darkness beyond.

Her mortality had been something she'd driven into Megatron's head over the course of their time together. He had assumed she could do things, in their plans for the Autobot base, that physically she could not.

Getting shot was one of those.

But for all her organic weakness, she had a side to her that was as hard and as unyielding as Megatron at his worst. When it came down to it, she could fight him for control over her body- and while she wished she didn't _have_ to, the flash of pride underneath all the terror and betrayal had been undeniable. She had shoved that away, into the darkness of her mind, as quickly as possible.

(Had anyone else realized that she had fought Megatron, feared leader of the _Decepticons,_ and _won?)_

_Romantic._

_Idealistic. Now, you only need to live up to it. So focus, Evelyn. You don't know how much time has gone by in the physical world. Best to assume that it runs faster than here, and you need to return as quickly as possible._

_…especially if they hate me as much as I suspect._

Not that she hadn't pushed for that hatred from the beginning. When she'd told Megatron they needed a plan before walking into Autobot territory, she'd _meant_ it.

Plans had been drawn up, sketched down to the last detail. Mechs' reactions; if they were kidnapped; how to reveal things- they'd all been decided and predicted in an artful reaction that was geared towards keeping her alive.

She smiled.

"If I am in the metaphysical world," she mused aloud, "I control everything. The only reality is _my_ reality. So-" her smile turned rueful. "You can come out now, Jazz."

He shuffled out of one of the deeper shadows, looking forcibly calm.

"How'r'ya?" He asked with a disarming smile that was as fake as plastic surgery on eighty-year-olds.

Evelyn felt herself grow cold, a potent cocktail of guilt and fear rocking through her. Taking a deep breath, she offered him a wry smile. "You're a horrible liar, Jazz. And an even worse actor."

"Hey!" He protested, smile becoming genuinely warmer, "I was Spec. Ops Head! For _Prime!_ I-"

"And how long has it been since your last mission?" She asked politely. At his sullen silence, she folded her arms, thankful for the excuse. They were beginning to shake.

He deflated, and she felt her face soften almost against her will.

Stepping forward, she stopped just short of touching his leg- the same one she'd just fixed.

_Or ruined. Just have to wake up, I guess._

The guilt was almost overwhelming.

"I am sorry," she said quietly, memories both alien and not tumbling over her. "I should not have let myself get… carried away. You deserve better- you and the Autobots. I was angry, but that isn't an excuse. It was… callous of me to use you like that."

She had been hurt and a little indignant, but her actions probably came across as arrogance.

"You are not a medic," Jazz pointed out. "You could have seriously damaged me."

"No, I couldn't," she sighed. "You are my _Protector,_ Jazz. That means something. I- you are not the only one affected by it."

"You mean you've been _feeling the bond?"_ He asked, aghast.

She shrugged. "Is that the strange twist in my chest? Then yeah. I mean- it doesn't hurt or anything. Just kinda aches. It got a lot better when I came close to you."

"Why didn't you _tell_ someone, femme?" He asked, looking so _adorably_ worried. "It's a bond-formation! If-"

"It isn't that big of a deal," she said flatly. At his disbelieving look, she scowled. "It _isn't!_ It doesn't even ache half the time, and the other half I can ignore it. It got worse after Ratchet healed you, but then we were only separated for a… an hour? Before we met again?"

He only frowned deeper, and she dropped the scowl.

_Time for a different method._

"Really, Jazz," she half-chided. "Did you think I would let myself be hurt for _anyone?_ I'm inherently selfish." Cue deprecating smile. "The crazy things you and your friends would do don't really fly with me."

He stared at her, optics looking impossible sad for a moment. She was confused.

"You can lie," he said gently. "But you cannot hide your actions. You walked, unarmed, into an Autobot base because you wanted to help them. To-"

"I'm flattered," she said wryly, biting back a reflexive shudder, "but I'm pragmatic. Not altruistic. Megatron wanted me to go there, and told me that the only way he'd be able to leave would be to get help from the Autobots. I wanted him out, he wanted to be out. It was a win-win, until I lost my nerve."

He shook his head slightly. "Damn, you're good," he said wonderingly. "Every word there was the strict truth, wasn't it? But you didn't need to play this game at all, Evelyn. You could have told Prime, and Megatron'd have been operated-out of you in _seconds._ You stayed. Because _you_ wanted to.

"You _care,_ and you're painting this image that you don't. Why?"

She swallowed, hard. A shrewd Jazz.

…what a terrifying thought.

But still, she could salvage this wreckage.

"I have enough problems with you and the Autobots without them knowing how I feel. Plus- I'm trying very hard _not_ to be confusing. So- limp for a little while, why don't you, Jazz? After you online, I mean."

He remained frozen, staring at her. She shifted uncomfortably. "You're smarter than us," he accused.

She frowned.

"You _want_ to be underestimated!"

"You're the mech with centuries of experience," she pointed out dryly. "Tell me that your size and your enemies' subsequent ignorance hasn't saved your- or your allies- lives."

Then she sighed.

_When it comes down to it- I need Jazz. But I also want his regard, as something more than a burden. Call it a character flaw; I don't care. But trust has to start somewhere... and I've been the one who's torturing him. It's my duty to take the first step._

* * *

"I… damn it. I'm not _good_ at this, Jazz." Her eyes raised to meet his, and he thought he was catching the first raw glimpse of her emotions. "I'm not- I've never _had_ to apologize. Not for something this big. And I don't know how Cybertronians do it. Dammit!"

He looked at her, and suddenly thought about how the accusations against her had ranged from dangerous to loud to _arrogant_ \- but never rude.

It made him wonder what else she was able to learn so well others didn't even notice it.

"Fine," she muttered to herself. To him she said quietly, "I'm not going to apologize any more for what I did. I was angry and hurtful- but not cruel. Not deliberately. And... I can't promise that I won't hurt you. There are things, that have been decided, things that have already been put into play. Stopping them will definitely cost lives, and I'm more than willing to sacrifice my morals to save them. What I can promise, though, is that from now on there is no going back, Jazz. You're… upgraded. From pawn to knight. Which means you have a say in what I do. In the future, you'll never be _used._ That much I swear to you, whole-heartedly. Please-" her eyes narrowed, and he was suddenly certain that she was not so much as ordering as begging, "don't abuse that trust."

"'Course," he replied cheerily, tossing the bad memories and ideas behind him like so much trash. "Just one question."

"Shoot."

"Can't I be a rook?"

Her answering bark of laughter was more harsh than soft, but she pinned her lips into a crooked smirk nonetheless. "No. You're a knight, because you're going to do everything people expect- until you turn their expectations upside-down on them."

He looked up a chessboard on the Internet, and glanced back down at her, echoing the fierce smile on her face.

"What are you?"

"…A mistake," she said, sounding grimly amused. "A rogue queen, set up because Prime miscalculated and Megatron got lucky. A pawn turned into the most powerful piece on board. Standing because nobody dares move against me.

"Whichever one you want."

He smiled placidly, but when she turned away he frowned heavily.

Because he'd thought she'd muttered _alone,_ of all things.

"How do we get out of here?" She ran a hand over the black stone, feeling more tired than anything. She wanted to go _home,_ to leave this to other, better qualified players- "Do you know?" She asked Jazz.

He shook himself sharply. "It's _your_ metaphysical world, femme. Your head. You should know."

"So you Autobots don't have any helpful tips," she deadpanned. "How… _useful."_

"Hey! When you _said_ that it was your mind we were in, we became _part_ of your mind! It isn't a mistake, you know." Jazz huffed. "Words _mean_ something here."

"Words mean something everywhere," she retorted. "It's just that here they result in physical action."

"If we're stuck in _your mind,"_ Jazz mumbled, "I don't know why we don't just-"

Her eyes lit up, as she whirled around to meet his gaze. "We got in when I claimed you as my Protector! If we recreate that moment-"

"Then we can get out of here." He smiled, smug and satisfied and bordering on unbearable. She shoved him, hard.

"Let's do this!"

* * *

Stumbling back to reality was jarring in more ways than one.

She was still lying on Jazz's body, was still aching and unhealed from a week of complete and utter _battering_ on her body, and worst of all, was not given complete control. Outrage surged around her, both his and her own. The rage, at waking up to _not_ be in your own body, was deafening.

::Get back:: she hissed, beyond all reason. Anger matched her glee of having escaped her _own mind_ and surpassed it. _::Get back right now, Megatron, or I swear to God and Primus and slagged_ Satan _that I will kill you the moment I get my hands on you.::_

Infuriatingly, he laughed, as affected by her sudden appearance as she had been by her disappearance. She had forgotten what callousness he was capable of. _::You can do no such thing, f-::_

Crazed, she flung memories of pain- his own- at him. Helplessness… shame… _guilt-_

He responded, with her own insecurities.

But she was not who she was without reason, and over the long months she'd learned how to play him. A spatter of frenzied images drove him back one step; the final punch landed when she sliced open his barriers to privacy with nothing more than a thought.

Instinctively shrinking into the depths, he abandoned control.

Viciously, she thought, _::And that's what you get for trying to do this.::_

The wave of pain that washed over her then left her huddled on the floor, forcing back the screams Megatron wanted to hear.

Dragging herself up inch by inch, she panted out, "Hope you die a _painful death,_ fucking fool."

And suddenly, she couldn't handle the claustrophobic metal of Jazz's body. He was safe, and while still offline, fine. The boosts she'd woven into his legs were working well enough, and the bond in her chest was curled around like a large cat. She pulled herself up, out of him. Twisting one last wire to give him full mobility, she patted him.

Everybody in sight twitched at the movement.

Ironhide, rather predictably, was the one to break the tableau.

Scooping her up- and disregarding the shriek from her bruised ribs- he deposited her on the floor on the opposite end of Jazz. They were separated by a wall of very large robots; she presumed that the purpose was to keep Jazz safe. She was glad- more for that than anything else- for their thoughtfulness in providing a wall at her back.

 _Play the part,_ she reminded herself. She'd let Jazz in, but that didn't mean anyone else was trusted. _To the bitter, bitter end, Evelyn. Play the part!_

Painfully, she lifted her right leg and propped it back on the wall, leaning against it insolently and staring up at them with hooded eyes.

"What?" She asked, in her most supercilious manner.

_Remember: this is the only way to survive._

* * *

The girl took everything they said in stoic silence, barely acknowledging them.

Even when they descended to insults, she only offered a bare hint of recognition. Under their threats- useless as they were- she arched an eyebrow. Then Ironhide stepped forward, and she stilled.

 _Like a prey seeing its predator,_ Ratchet thought.

Within seconds that was gone. Her eyes remained calm, though he thought her skin was paler than it should have been…

She didn't so much as utter a word when Ironhide pointed a cannon directly at her face.

It was only when he hissed, "Coward," that she moved.

Eyes narrowing on Ironhide, Ratchet could _see_ that she no longer noticed them. Instead, white-hot rage throbbed inside her, not unsimilar to the battle-rage of Sunstreaker.

"That," she said, completely controlled, "was the wrong thing to say."

She wasn't very frightening. She was smaller, softer, weaker. Megatron inside her head was the only thing keeping her alive at that moment.

But right then-

Right then, Ratchet was reminded of a blow torch- fine, hot, and so _meticulous_ that it was infinitely more dangerous than a bonfire.

"Tell me," she said hoarsely, fingers tapping against the metal wall at her back, "whatever happened to Chromia?"

She leaned _into_ his cannons, letting the edges almost press against her face. When Ironhide didn't answer, she hissed, "Do it. Be my judge, jury, and executioner. I promise- no one will miss me." Her voice dropped. "After all, Ironhide, _I killed her."_

"Prime," Ratchet murmured, stepping forward worriedly. If the girl was actually killed-

Optimus stepped forward, but he was behind a wall of mechs, and the girl just _went on talking._

"Ripped out her spark," she marched on mercilessly. "And ground it to dust. I _saw the light go out_ of her optics. And you know what I did?" Her face tilted up, meeting his. Her fingers went slack on the metal. Ironhide didn't move.

Everybody was deathly silent, waiting, breathlessly.

"I _laughed."_

* * *

The world exploded in flame.

* * *

 


	6. A Chess of Words

She watched, distantly bittersweet, as she played him like the fool he was.

His cannons were still pointed at her- but the recoil from his other ones had been pointed away from her. She was alive- something she hadn't expected.

What did it matter, her words? She had needed to break the tension, because they would have continued.

Continued… until she broke.

She could _feel_ her mental shields degrading; could almost _touch_ the weakness that was coming. Her hands were shaking, her head felt like it was in a migraine, and she was running a fever, low though it still was. She _needed_ to rest, and there had been two ways to do so.

First, she could have let them speak until they ran out of words, then try to tell them what had happened. Jazz was not _dead,_ after all, and- in fact- her actions had saved his Spark in a multitude of ways.

Or, she could do what she had done. Shatter their anger with a flashing blow that left them reeling, and make them see _past_ the red haze of outrage. It had been a risky plan, but any other would have left her without any of her normal protective barriers; without the full strength of her mind.

And she was too much pride's daughter to risk that.

The words she'd spoken were not important.

It was her fingers that were- a tapping that had taken almost more energy than it was worth.

Closing her eyes, she drooped down to the floor, and buried her head in her hands, mouth open in a silent scream that she would never have the chance to unleash. She had seen the fear in her soul, yes, but never the horror. In the depths of her very being, the question had always been, _was she good?_

In the craven shadows, she had seen the answer.

There were so many things wrong with what she'd just done; so many things she would change if she only knew _how_.

 _Everything is a lie,_ she'd broadcasted at a low-level frequency, with her fingers. Too low for anyone not tuned to the Thetacon frequency, as Ironhide still was, after all these years. A passing reference from Megatron their first night there had saved her life now.

 _Do not hurt me,_ she begged.

He had not noticed.

She continued to cry, unwilling to rise. She had never been the strongest person in a room.

 _Evelyn Monroe,_ she thought scornfully. _The girl who proved that evil_ can _be born._

"Ironhide?" Somebody- she guessed Prowl- asked tentatively. He growled in response, still staring at her with his hateful blue optics.

"What?"

"…Why isn't she dead?" A fair question, to those not paying attention.

But to those who had… she had just sent out a pulse on a frequency that was too low for Ironhide to see at a conscious level, just loud enough to alter some of his subconscious routines _enough_ that he did not pull the trigger of the gun to her head. And that had been coordinated with her nervous twitches.

_Enough._

Lifting her head, she said thickly, "You should have done it."

"And deprived Jazz?" He turned away, and that movement said everything she needed to know. "You _disgust_ me."

_I didn't mean it like that._

Her mouth opened, before closing soundlessly. It was all useless.

Her lofty dreams of saving the world. They all ended their lives as guttering wisps of smoke.

Getting up numbly- and vaguely identifying the hatred in the other Autobots' eyes- she walked back to her room. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe detached themselves, escorted her the distance, and remained inside when she entered her new room that Megatron identified as empty from the base schematics. It was in the middle, and easily entered; at the same time it was not in the same hallway as any other occupied room.

The best one there for her own safety.

She considered protesting the twins' presence, before discarding it like the stupid option it was. She was a fool and worse if she thought she could get away with _anything_ after what she'd just pulled.

And she was just tired enough not to care.

Curling on her side, she winced at the pain in her side. Her burns were aggravated, her ribs were bruised, there was probably a sprained joint somewhere around there, and she had not slept for too long.

She didn't even feel anger anymore, only the bone-deep weariness of a plan gone completely awry.

 _No._ This _is what happens when it goes_ right. _You were prepared for their hatred. Be ready for their contempt._

Her sleep had too many nightmares.

Finally giving up on that option, she stumbled to a box she'd seen shoved into the corner. Sunstreaker gritted out a warning, but she ignored him. Her migraine was worse than almost anything else she'd experienced, and she needed something _now_ for it.

The bottle was- fittingly- blood red. Opening it might have taken more dexterity than she had, but a harsh snap to the neck left the top broken and the majority of the contents still inside of it.

She took a deep swig.

The taste was harsh, but alcohol felt good in her system. The last time she'd ever drank anything was during a Christmas party; her parents hadn't noticed and she'd been curious. She'd hated the taste then.

It was worse now.

But she wanted to forget some of the darkness of the night (the darkness in her soul) and the alcohol was a good bet for clouding her mind. The more she drank, the more she wanted to drink. The shambling walk to the table was just long enough for her to almost fall over a grand total of five times.

Meh. Who cared if she could hold her liquor? Nobody wanted to be associated with her. She was a child masquerading as an expert, and her successes so far had left her complacent.

 _::This better not become a norm::_ Megatron warned.

She sent back a strange amalgam of irritation and fondness- a mixture she'd never have dared send when sober. But right then, the lines between right, wrong, good, bad, and _healthy_ were being blurred to nothingness.

_::Don't worry. They'll learn their lesson. I just want... I don't know what I want. Heh.::_

Her head thunked against the wooden table no less than _four_ times before she fell into the blessed darkness of sleep.

* * *

Sunstreaker had never seen someone quite like… this.

The girl had certainly acted strangely. But she hadn't said a word to them, and all her movements had been clearly non-threatening. After laying down on her berth, she had… _writhed…_ in a manner that was reminiscent of torture. Sideswipe had looked uncomfortable at that- but he hadn't said anything, and they remained silent watchers.

She'd gotten up sometime around two in the morning, and walked over to a box in the corner. He'd hissed a warning that was promptly disregarded, but she'd returned to the table, in full view. The drink- he thought- was something similar to high-grade, especially after she just slumped over half-way through.

 _A dead drunk,_ he thought derisively. _How_ interesting.

Then she'd run into the bathroom to do something, and he lost complete interest.

Not that there was anything interesting about this planet. The sunrises were… adequate. Nothing like the flares that had been visible on Iacon. The oceans were tempting- he'd admit that- but so very monotonously _blue._ Over time, they became just ripples of the same liquid running over boring, flat land. And the terrain was just plain dirty.

Sunstreaker hated Earth with a passion that couldn't quite compare to anything else.

Because there was _something,_ some undefinable emotion, that hung in the air and curdled around their helms. It breathed of laughter, and sunshine, and unbroken hopes.

Hopes Cybertron would never see again.

Neither he nor his brother preferred to muse. They fought good battles on the field, made their patrols on time, and played pranks when they felt like it.

(And if it hurt, just a little bit, that Prime glared at Sunstreaker for not _caring_ about some squishy organic fleshling… well, who gave a slag? Sunstreaker had lost everything he'd cared for, all except his brother, when Iacon fell. He didn't really have the need or want to look after and like someone else.

Especially someone who hadn't lost _everything,_ like he had.)

"Are you okay?" Sideswipe asked her, voice oddly gentle. Sunstreaker shoved him, hard, and settled back into his chair.

**_She doesn't deserve our pity._ **

Sideswipe shrugged, and waited for an answer. When she spoke, her voice sounded tired. The muscle-tightening despair hung over her head like a shroud already woven.

… _how I felt after-_

The cold memories were shoved away, and he watched her warily.

"I'm fine, Sideswipe. Just a few bruises, that's all. I should be fine in a couple- days."

_Lie._

And… Sideswipe, fool that he was, didn't notice. "You sure? That looks so… purple." He pointed at her arm.

"It could be worse," she replied dryly. "The ribs are bruised, now, but they could have been broken." Then her eyes lit up. "D'you know some Cybertronian medical knowledge? Megatron's been telling me some stuff, but he was always more focused on taking them apart than putting them back together."

He pretended that they didn't flinch at her casual usage of Megatron.

"Yeah, I know some stuff," Sideswipe said awkwardly. "But, you know, I've been taking mechs apart too. That's where I got most of my knowledge, and Ratchet would be better, bec-"

"I'm not a medic," she pointed out, just slightly acrimoniously. "I just want to know some stuff about the differences between Autobots and Decepticons. The terminology Ratchet uses is too… specialized."

"Um, okay," he said slowly, looking at Sunstreaker, who pointedly ignored him. Sideswipe had gotten himself into this mess. He could dig himself out.

That the girl had hit on one of very few topics Sideswipe was an expert in was more a surprise than anything his brother could _say._ Reading between the lines, it was so _obvious-_ she could read Sideswipe. The hints and movements over a lifetime of fighting and a week of seeing had given her enough to read his brother so well.

Disturbing.

"So… this is the panel that restricts movement along the edge of my wheels. It's…"

The girl was honestly interested in this stuff; she smiled at the right places and asked a question when she didn't understand. Sunstreaker resisted the urge to point his rifle at her, and smiled bitterly when a knock came on the door.

She made a strange face. "Come in."

Prime shuffled in, optics taking in Sunstreaker and Sideswipe before dismissing them. Sunstreaker felt the now-usual surge of anger sink into the base of his spark chamber.

They were the best warriors in his entire army. They did _everything_ when the higher channels fell through, and the other mechs kept an optic on them as much to stop pranks as to keep up morale.

 _There has been enough melodrama today, Sunstreaker. Now is_ not _the time._

"Yes, Prime?" She asked, perfectly cordial. "I am sorry, but I have been in here the entire time, so-"

"Jazz told us what you did."

She stiffened, before smiling in a small manner that just left her looking weary. "Did he?"

"Yes," he said, watching her carefully. "He told us how you took out a metal shard in his leg. When Ratchet did a projection, he told us that the shard would have exploded in a few days, the metal growing volatile the more he moved. It would have left Jazz bleeding to death from the inside out."

She folded her arms, looking up at him, unimpressed.

"You _knew?"_ Sideswipe whispered.

She didn't look at him, though she did answer. "Did you think I'd have gone and performed and emergency medical surgery without that? There is a _bond_ between the two of us, which, Prime, you should have been _aware_ of."

Prime looked uncomfortably chastised, before deciding to stick to the script. Sunstreaker snorted.

"I owe you a debt," he said formally. "You saved one of the warriors under me, for no reason other than altruism. The _Autobots_ owe you a debt."

The girl hesitated, before straightening abruptly. The look on her face said she didn't like this, but it was as necessary as not. "I didn't do it for you."

"… _Pardon me?"_

 _You can repeat that,_ Sunstreaker thought, frowning heavily at the girl. _Why would you-_

But Sideswipe was _grinning,_ and suddenly he felt like an idiot. The girl was just as proud as either of them, as she'd proven before. She just… was _different_ about it.

"I didn't do it for you, Prime," she said, voice hardening. "Jazz did not deserve to die, and that was my reason for my actions. I have no need of… _gifts_ for doing the right thing."

Prime looked, hard, at her. "Nevertheless, you are in our debt."

"I do not think you understand," she said politely.

"I understand perfectly," Prime said firmly. "Do you not wish to have us- the _Autobots-_ in a proper debt? It can-"

"Dammit," She hissed, surging to her feet and glaring at him. "How many times do I have to _tell_ you, Prime? You're _not_ in my debt! I don't _want_ to have you indebted to me! I did what I did because it was the right thing, and if Jazz was a _Decepticon_ I would have done it! I _don't want_ your thanks!"

Then she froze, color draining from her face and wobbling before standing stiffly again. She bit back the rest of the words, instead settling for a glare.

"Very well," Prime said slowly, puzzling through her words- though Sunstreaker doubted he'd be able to get past her ingrained defenses. "But would you not at least consider coming to the meeting room? Are there not things you wish to know?"

She pulled back from the precarious edge she'd been steadying on, and sent him an unreadable look. "There are many things I wish to know. There are too few you can answer."

_Which meant no._

Really, all they had to do was read between the lines. Was look just a little deeper- but none of them had thought a child was capable of such subtlety, even when she had Megatron assisting her.

"Nevertheless," Prime said doggedly. Sunstreaker could have told her he was relentless when it came to it. She heaved a sigh, then, and he thought he wouldn't have to.

"Very well," she said quietly, catching a hand on the table next to her.

Her hands twisted, slightly, catching the sunlight in her palm as if it were liquid gold. The unyielding spine in her stance softened, into something just as bitter but not half as dangerous. The grief lining her eyes, Sunstreaker noted, was not feigned.

She shuddered, a full-body tremble, when Sideswipe picked her up. But she didn't say anything else, and they left quickly for the conference room.

When they entered, Sunstreaker saw the two soldiers who ran around the base- and so was one of the first to see their horror at the girl.

"What happened to you?" They echoed each other.

She frowned back, before arching an eyebrow- deliberately unhelpful.

"A lot has happened. Try to be more specific."

"Bullshit," one said flatly. "You have a giant _bruise,_ all over your arm. And you look like _shit."_

The other spun around and pinned the Autobots with a _look,_ ignoring the sudden gleam of amusement in her eyes _._ "What did you _do?"_

"Is this not normal?" Prowl asked curiously. The humans looked rather… _outraged_ when he said that.

Heh. Were they supposed to be turning purple?

"No," one hissed. "She's so badly injured she shouldn't be able to _walk_ right now! I'm not sure how she _is!_ "

"You don't say." She drawled back. "And it really isn't any of your-"

"Your wrists are burned. You're limping. How they _hell_ are you able to?"

"…having a giant robot inside me isn't good for only terrifying _them_ you know." A slight incline to the rest of them, before a smile that could have sliced iron. "I was actually going to go back to bed before you and big brother over there launched into my room. Speaking of, what's this about?"

Silence. The silence, Sunstreaker considered, of either the very shocked or the very amused.

Though none were suicidal enough to _say_ that.

"You," Prime said, with the air of one stepping carefully over a minefield.

_Oh, yes, Prime. How many grenades are there between you and your brother? How many winds have you sown, and how does it feel, to be now caught in the whirlwind?_

The grim satisfaction he felt was both petty and mean-spirited, but Sunstreaker had never claimed to be the better mech. He followed Prime because of two reasons: one, Prime was _Prime;_ he was strong and fast and better than most any other leader in the universe. Secondly, Sideswipe liked him.

(And Sunstreaker would never, not in a hundred-thousand-million years let his brother go where he would not follow.)

"Me."

He nodded, taking no notice of her flat response. "You. As in, what do we do with you? There are so many things to take into consideration; you are human and not- and-"

"I am completely human," she said coldly, back stiffening; they had offended her. Not a promising start. "I am not Autobot, Decepticon, or any other kind of _alien._ I am _human,_ Optimus Prime."

"But you have an alien inside of you."

She shifted her weight cautiously, before tilting her head in acknowledgement. "Yes. But that doesn't mean I am one of you."

_A game of words, as deep as the depths of the sea._

"It means that we must care for you."

"Why?" She asked quietly. The rustle of indignant emotion wasn't a surprise, though she didn't seem to notice it. "Why do you care for me, when I hold the mech you consider the most evil in centuries? Why would you do this- all this- for one such as _me?"_

He looked at her, gravely. "You are not just my brother. They were your first words to me in my rooms, were they not? A warning, as much as a lie. And we do not kill innocents." A small smile. "You have saved Jazz's life, beyond giving him a second chance. What sway you hold over my brother is strong, indeed, to keep him at bay. Perhaps you are just preternaturally strong. We… we do not kill those thrown in fate's path, unjustly."

A bittersweet smile curved her lips, and she sighed, as if she were imparting some great secret. "I am not Megatron," she said resignedly, looking at them all, waiting for the accusations to pour forth, "But that does not mean that I was not chosen for a reason."

"A reason?"

"…we are sympathetic souls." When nobody reacted, she frowned heavily. "Do none of you know what that means?"

"We… know what it means, after a fashion," he said, mirroring her pose. "But that does not mean that we understand your definition. There are many, ranging from-"

"The original definition, then."

Ratchet swore fluently under his breath. Prime's optics widened, too, and he murmured, "Well. This changes things."

Ironhide nodded furiously. "We can't trust anything she has to say! You _know,_ Optimus, better than _anyone_ the evil Megatron is capable of! She's proven she isn't an innocent, so-"

"So what, Ironhide? Kill me?" Her voice sounded rather distant, especially for someone discussing their impending death.

"No," he said, but there was a wavering edge to it that was rarely found in his voice.

She smirked. "You haven't asked me any questions, Prime."

_And neither has he given you the answers he bribed you with. But… you knew that, didn't you? You've known this was coming, and you've decided how you want it to end._

Her alive, and unhurt.

Apart from that, Sunstreaker couldn't think of any other goals at play. She was too good at this to have any other motivations. Had she truly meant to- he guessed the entire base would have gone down in flames before they'd known it.

"No," Prime replied grimly.

One of the soldiers crossed his arms. "Why not just give her a polygraph test?"

Before anyone could ask, she snorted and tilted her head, insultingly supercilious. "Did you really think that they haven't had sensors trained on my since I arrived at the _base,_ much less this _room?_ They'd know if I lied, Epps, that way. _They_ just have trouble thinking that the loving little psychopath in my head won't be able to manipulate their readings and throw them off."

"… _What?"_

Not good. That tone of voice was unique to commanding officers who saw the results of a prank gone awry. That voice… had a lot of memories attached to it. Sunstreaker just barely resisted a cringe.

Prime looked oblivious, of course. Slagging leader probably never got in trouble.

Certainly not enough to catch the tone of the human's voice.

"Yes," she continued, and the dark grin she was sporting widened. "I told Megatron-" a ripple of flinches went through the crowd, "-that it was an invasion of privacy, but apparently both Autobots and Decepticons have certain things in common." An expert ignore of the growl that sprang up, though he thought her grin widened a little bit more. Pissing them off seemed a fun practice for her. Tone switching from scheming to mournful, she said, "I _told_ him, but there're things none of us can change, I guess."

The gleeful undertone to her malicious smile almost left Sideswipe in hysterics behind him- though he was the only one to find the conversation funny.

"Optimus…" Epps trailed off, looking at his friend carefully. "I'd suggest you give us a good reason for that unless you _want_ Will to spontaneously combust here and now."

"There is no reason," Prime responded calmly, ignoring the soldier who was turning an unhealthy shade of scarlet. "But why is it a problem? We have simply been focusing on the readings. There are sensors all over this base that log this information. It is… necessary."

" _Necessary?!"_

 _Okay. This_ is _quite amusing. Certainly beats inspections and patrol._

"NECESSARY?!" The soldier flung his arms up and stalked forward, shouting the whole distance. Everybody's attention was locked on him- and had Sunstreaker not been at the angle he was in, he might never have noticed the girl.

She wobbled, slightly, before straightening defiantly, and the amusement dripped off her features like paint. Suddenly, all she looked like was tired and… young.

_Like a youngling lost in the middle of enemies._

But by the time others glanced at her, there was nothing but poorly-hidden enjoyment and a calculating grin.

For the first time, Sunstreaker felt something approaching respect for an earthling. Tired, terrified, and hurt, she still toyed with them with _ease._ That hurt his pride for the Autobots- but that blow was also softened in a myriad of ways because he'd _realized it._

_Watch her, Sunstreaker. Very, very carefully. Take the gleams of truth that shine at moments, and craft a mosaic of her world from it._

The lecture died down slowly, the soldier still huffing and puffing, but they'd reached an agreement. The polygraph test had already been done- and she'd passed. They could not trust her in that sense.

So how to know whether what she spoke was the truth?

"We cannot listen to you," Prime told her regretfully. "Megatron- my brother- is cruel in ways you cannot comprehend. You must know this. He has held back for now, but when he decides to take control… We cannot listen to your answers."

"Even though you have not asked any questions?" She asked dryly. She arched a brow. "We have a saying here on earth: you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take. You haven't learned anything since the moment I arrived at your base."

A mixture of potent truth, and vicious lies. They just had to separate the two.

"We cannot trust what you say," Prime repeated.

"Then," she said, as if it were the most obvious solution, "find a way to make me tell the truth."

And the sun, for a brief moment, shone down on Sunstreaker, lighting what she meant but would never dare say aloud.

Shoving his way forward, he approached the table smoothly, making sure neither Prime nor any other officer saw him until he was too close to stop him physically. It was pathetically easy to ignore their subtle methods otherwise.

…the girl was not angry. She was simply sharp, and _different,_ from most everybody else on the base. Thankfully- or maybe not- Sunstreaker could _understand_ her.

She had little morals and less respect for those she did not care for. It was only that war had not sliced her world and her mind apart; both Sideswipe and he had faced the evils of the universe and survived- but that had _marked_ them. They _could have been_ this girl, in another universe.

And while there was no way to hold her _loyalty…_ honor was another thing altogether.

"Evelyn Monroe," he murmured, sliding his lip plates in such a fashion that they looked like a sneer. "Do you swear on your honor to tell the truth to us for the remainder of this day?"

Her face became blank, smooth. Yet he could see the smile at the corner of her eyes, and felt the sneer widen impossibly large.

 _Score: Seventeen, Monroe. Zero, Autobots._ One, _Sunstreaker._

"Yes," she replied, smile tinged with razor-bedded satisfaction. "I do."

Silence. For the nth time that day, and Sunstreaker could only feel reluctant amusement for the rest of the Autobots. They had all seen, but not _looked._ They had understood, but not comprehended. They had heard the lies, and concluded only dishonor.

(But Sunstreaker knows that they are two very, very different things.)

"Then," he said, savagely amused, "tell us the tale of how you met Megatron."

Her face was a glittering, multi-faceted mirror. He wondered, briefly, if anyone had seen such gratitude before.

"It all began when I saw Bumblebee in my school parking lot…"

* * *

"I am not a fool," she finished. Her summary had been readied since the moment she entered the room, and it showed in the conciseness of her report. She hadn't expected to use it, though; her anger had pulsed with both rage and indignation, but Sunstreaker had, somehow, managed to bind her in perhaps the single manner she would accept.

_I am free. The world is my stage, and I am no longer an actor. Let the curtains fall; I shall not stay where I am not welcome._

The near-silent purr of absolute satiation from Megatron left her giddy.

Nothing showed on her face, she was sure. She was blank, studiously polite and venomously spiteful by turns that were as random to Prime as his terms of honor were to her. She was unreadable, to these people, but not so to Sunstreaker.

That knowledge was so _good._

"Megatron… is good?"

She hesitated at answering Prowl's question. There were so many answers, but she wanted- _needed-_ their respect. Megatron _was_ good, in that his morals no longer included targeting innocents. But good, as in the Autobot code…

…that was a very different story.

In the end, there was only one answer she could give.

In _honor,_ there was one answer.

"Yes," she said plainly. "He will not target Autobots who do not threaten him first. He will not target innocents, either. There has been enough blood shed by his own body to soak this world's oceans, but he will no longer add to it."

Sideswipe had bullied his way to the front, and now the two mechs- gold and silver- stared down at her. She met their gazes with cold certainty, ensuring that any reservations were hidden behind a veneer of absolutely no doubt. If the two of them saw her doubt, they would think the worst.

And she could not afford that.

Now, Sideswipe frowned. "And what about the 'Cons?"

Really, if she had faced these two since the beginning- for questioning, not anything else- she would not have succeeded to the extent she had. They were front-liners who were not built for war, but had understood her complexities before everyone else. A study in contradictions as varied as she herself was.

The smirk on her face was bitter.

"He knows every last one of their crimes."

There. Let them make of that what they wanted. They could use the knowledge, could break the war effort, and she would not stop them. For one night, she was honest.

For one night, there were no masks.

"And they are…" Ratchet trailed off, mainly because Sunstreaker glared up at him angrily.

"Do not ask that question," he warned. "Not unless you want her to answer."

_And you don't. Ask me that question, and I'll answer. But do not think I will ever forgive that. I… am human. Only human._

She waited, silently, as Prime stepped forward.

"Do you know what Megatron is accused of?" He asked softly.

She stiffened. Had he phrased that any other way- her eyes closed in a slow blink, heavy with both relief and dread. This was the question, but everything balanced on the answer. This was the fulcrum upon which her future spun.

"Yes."

He met her gaze, optics softer than she expected. There was no anger, there- only regret and the barest hint of remorse.

"Can you name them?"

She barely stopped herself from flinching. She was so very _tired,_ and she wanted to leave. There were answers to be had, though, here and now, and secrets to be revealed in the depths of this deception. And she was the key to them all.

"Starting a civil war," she began tiredly. She wanted to close her eyes, at that moment, to just focus on her hands and not see their horror- but she had her own penances to pay, her own regrets to bury. She would see their anger and betrayal and grief, and she would see the forgiveness she had extended to a mech who might never have deserved it. "The genocide of Cybertronian femmes and sparklings. The deaths…" an impersonal number, or a heartless list? She could give one- but not both. The look in his optics decided her course. "of Chromia, Cliffjumper, Bulkhead…"

The list went on and on, but she didn't let any of her weariness show in her face or tone. There was only flat, monotonous lists to them- and flashes of battles and regret and guilt to her.

"That is enough," Prime said, and she nodded jerkily. Her muscles were jumping from the stiff posture she'd held herself in, and if she moved more than a few feet she would just fall over. Even Megatron's control was eroding. "We've offered you a gift, Evelyn Monroe. Perhaps you would use it in a certain manner? It is not meant for Megatron, but for _you."_

She smiled crookedly. "I already said-"

Her words cut off at a sharp rebuke from Megatron.

 _::Listen, slag it! He's trying to_ tell _you something.::_

_::What-::_

The pain melded with the dread, and ended as anger, as his ideas revealed themselves. She did not need to pretend her anger or outrage.

What, after all, did any small girl from a backwater planet who was not strong enough to deal with the darkness want? _Her parents_. As evinced by Sam Witwicky, who was as easily manipulated by higher strings and careless puppeteers as she was desperate to throw them off.

People really were sheep. Half of her classmates thought the Civil War was fought in the 1900s; she had lost her faith in their mental facilities very early on in life. Had Sam even _tried_ to interact with them, beyond the role they'd designated for him? Or- maybe- he was just content with the carved out hold they'd made for him, and he would never care enough to walk out. Maybe one day he would, but it would just be easier to accept the hole's darkness than fight against the chains.

Well, fuck him.

Fuck the rest of the Autobots, too, because she didn't give a _damn_ if they wanted her gone. Fuck the _world,_ because she was no puppet to be placed on strings and even if there were others happy with that she _knew_ herself. She knew the limits of her strength, and her courage, and her frailty.

That didn't mean she wouldn't _fight._

Prime likely wanted her to go back because he could claim that was the payment for the debt- a debt he was forced by Autobot honor to give. A neat little gift-wrapped present so _he no longer had to worry about her._

Bile rose in her throat when she imagined what would happen if she gave in to their suggestions.

(Her mother, screaming under a Decepticon's foot; her father bleeding on linoleum flooring; her house flattened to nothingness-)

_Enough._

It was Friday. Her parents would worry, soon, and they needed a fool-proof answer for what had happened. She was injured, and they weren't fools. It was a good thing she had planned for it; it was painfully clear the Autobots had not.

A very small part of her knew that Prime had not meant it as an insult. She told that part of her to shut up and go die in a ditch.

Evelyn Monroe was _angry,_ but more than anything she was _insulted._

_Fuck. Them. All._

"You want me to go back to my parents," she said carefully modulating her tone to monotonous.

"…yes?"

She bared her teeth, though no other body part shifted. "Are you a _fool?_ Have you forgotten what is _in my veins?"_ She asked slowly, voice hardening to bone-sharp metal. "I have _Energon radiation,_ you idiotic excuse for a thinking _creature!_ I walk back there and I'm _dead!_ I condemn my _parents_ to death! I lose everything I care about, because you want me _gone?"_ When he opened his mouth, she snarled, _"_ If, by some _God-forsaken_ miracle, you did _not_ understand that, let me clarify: _I am not going back!"_

_::That… response was rather strong, Evelyn.::_

Her eyes narrowed to slits in response.

"I," she forced out dangerously, "am not going to walk back there. I will not _do it_. I will _burn_ you with my _bare hands,_ Prime, before I let you put my _parents_ in harm's way. The next time you _think_ about using them as pawns I will not hesitate to turn against you. This is your one, and _only_ warning. _Stay away from them,_ or I will _make_ you."

Perhaps she wasn't intimidating in a physical sense. But she _would_ go through with her threats, and her conviction showed. Nobody laughed.

_Good. That just means… one more thing to do._

_::Hold on, Megatron. We can rest soon enough.::_

Turning woodenly to Ratchet, she asked, "May I see Jazz?" At his hesitation she added, "I won't touch him."

"…very well."

She nodded brusquely, and moved to the edge of the table, resolutely ignoring their astonishment.

(She couldn't stop her fear when she felt Ratchet close his hands around her. Bruises and phobias aside, was it too much to ask to not be injured by allies?)

 _Yes,_ she thought, too tired to hide her instinctive recoil. _It is._

Jazz was hidden behind a film of cold glass, though he was no longer laying down on the berth. Her heart tightened when she saw him- emotions as varied as a rainbow's arch crumbling over her. She thought she was too tired to feel them, but the bond between them pulsed brighter and drew them out of her easier than a magician pulled scarves.

"Jazz," she said quietly.

"Evelyn," he returned.

She looked at him, and sank to the floor, ignoring the ache in her torso as best she could.

"I'm tired," she said, looking at him _hard,_ begging to be heard by _someone-_

 _-_ "You're safe, now." His optics were so brilliantly blue. She felt misery wash over her, followed closely by bitterness. "You need to take better care of yourself, femme."

"There are no safe places," she whispered, fever erasing carefully-drawn boundaries, and thinking _this is how wars begin, in corners and shadows and whispers of rumors-_ "Not under the deepest ocean, not over the highest mountain, not past the farthest star, not before the closest love. I can rest… when this war is over. You deserved better."

Because Jazz _did._ He deserved better than a cold return to his old job, better than anything the Autobots could give him.

(Better than she could, too.)

 _::Who are you fighting this war for, femme?::_ Megatron asked suddenly.

Her eyes drifted shut, and she leaned a heavy head against the glass. She would sleep… for just a little amount of time… five minutes-

_::Evelyn?::_

She sighed, and dredged up the energy to properly answer.

"Myself."

* * *

Jazz was _worried._

Not worried, as in, there's a glitch mouse in his wiring. Not worried, even, as in, his partners would _die_ if he didn't act fast enough. Not worried, either, as in, all the Autobots were depending on him to carry this off.

No. This was a Spark-deep fear, originating from their newly-forged bond and revolving totally around the young girl who was so very pale, lying on the ground like a fragging _broken doll-_

_-"RATCHET!"_

Ratchet burst into the room, buzz-saw gleaming- and what the _hell_ was he thinking, Evelyn was _lying_ there, there was no _danger_ but to _her,_ and she was fragging _lying there like she was dead._

"What," he asked, desperately trying to lighten the furious edge to his tone before deciding that didn't slagging matter, "are you _doing,_ Ratchet? She's over _there._ What the slagging _hell_ are you thinking, being on _this side_ of the glass?

"Get _over there!"_

Ratchet opened his mouth, probably to tell him off- but Jazz really didn't care. His _Protectee_ stood feet away, and he couldn't protect her. Ratchet, he decided, had roughly seventeen seconds before he tore the wall down with his bare servos.

"NOW!"

He spun around and fled, but before Jazz could properly work himself into a rage, Ratchet walked into the other room and picked her up, carrying her out-

_Out of his sight._

The cold certainty that crashed over him was as chilling as the furious panic of moments before- and twice as effective. With less than a thought, sharp steel blades flicked up from hidden panels, sawing through the bands holding him to the table within moments. Less than a breath later, he was swinging up from the berth, holding himself upright through sheer determination.

Plating flipped around his arms, shielding the wires and vulnerable bits; he slipped into battle mode easier than he'd ever expected.

A scan over the door revealed Ironhide, but before the mech could identify the scan he had decided on a course of action and was _reacting._

The door crashed into the far side of the wall, crumpled tin. Ironhide flew along with it, and was dazed for a brief klik- just enough time for Jazz to stun him properly. A few steps into the hallway revealed a cranky Ratchet, who was _just_ high enough on his 'enemy' list to mark carefully.

Evelyn lay in his hands, pale and thin. She looked so _small-_ and Ratchet was talking.

"She isn't waking up?" He asked urgently, stepping forward. " _Give her to me."_

Ratchet glared, pulling himself up, but the fool didn't know what this kind of a bond was, and Jazz had no intention of telling him just yet.

There was a reason he'd gone into Spec Ops.

Jazz was _fast._

One step forward, two steps left, a single plated movement-

-and Evelyn was cradled in his arms, curling around the middle of his wrist lifelessly. Had he not scanned her, he might very well have ripped Ratchet in half; his anger and worry were rising to depths he had rarely ever felt before.

He had not yet mated, after all, and bonds between brothers or fellow warriors were never as strong as something like this. The fury disappeared, though, when he saw that she was still breathing, and breathing better still when close to him.

Holding her close to his chassis, he moved into an easily defensible corner.

 _Come near me,_ he snarled soundlessly at Ratchet and Ironhide and Prime, _and I will not hesitate to tear you apart. She_ will _get better!_

_She has no other choice._

* * *

The world was cold. The world was warm.

 _No, Evelyn. The world_ is. _Do you see? You can call it warm and cold, good and bad, dark and light- but in the end, it_ is. _You can die, your parents can die, your bonded can die. You all can crumble into ash and dust and nothing more, but this world will still spin around and around and around its own star._

_Until it, too, reaches its death- and the world is taken, explodes in a storm of flame and beauty. Then the dance is finished, and we turn our gaze to another star and another planet, and the timeless dance begins again._

_The song… is never finished._

Who am I?

_You are nothing. You are everything._

_You are the stars in the skies, the suns in the darkness, and the brilliance in the despair. There are no words for what you_ are, _Evelyn._

But you call me Evelyn.

 _And that is why you are so very special, Evelyn Monroe. Did you know… out of all the races my people have come across, it is yours- and yours_ alone- _who has carved a_ reason _for existence? Even my descendants needed help, a push- as it were- to move past the initial fog of ignorance. You humans lifted yourself up on your own two hands and bloodied knees and broken feet; you have made a place in a universe never meant to be ruled, and have kept it for centuries._

_That time ends now._

…I am human.

_Yes._

Why am I here?

_Before you can answer that, you must know this: who am I?_

You are… God.

 _No. I am_ one _god. I am Primus, god of Cybertron. Did you know that you do not have a god, for earth? It is rather unpleasant, let me tell you, to see such a rich world with no such protection._

Why am I here?

_You are here because you are exhausted. Because it is when your barriers are down that you can be reached, and I pulled you here for a chat. A friendly one. You need not worry. What I wanted to talk about is my children._

…I do not bow.

_Have I asked you to?_

No. I do not bow, Primus. Call yourself a god. Call yourself _the_ God. I do not bow to creatures I do not know. I do not bow to anyone.

_I have not told you why you are here._

I know why.

_Pray tell._

You wish for the end of the war. You want me to facilitate it. And my answer is this: I will do so. It has been my plan from the start. But the next time you interfere, and the next time you step in to tell me what to do, I will not hesitate to break my words and oaths to foil your plans.

_…you have your memories._

Yes.

_When did you get your memories back? I purposely pulled you-_

I have never forgotten them.

_This battle is not over._

I have enemies on all sides. Megatron is only one of them. You say this battle is not over? I say this war has not yet begun. I am not a Cybertronian to bend knee to false gods; I am human, with all the _brokenness_ that entails.

_You dare to call me false!_

I dare to call you alien. There is a difference, _Primus._ Play word games if you wish- but try not to let _children_ best you.

This war is not about you. It is about Megatron and Prime and everybody caught in the middle. And if there is one thing I can ensure, humanity will not pay the price for you and yours' mistakes.

Have a good day, Primus.

_Walk out there, little human, and you shall not know what I would have offered you._

I have no wish for such offers when I know that I can conquer this world with my bare hands.

_Ah. But it is no longer your world is it? It is mine as well._

We offered your people a home. I gave one of yours a life. And you stand there and try to tell me that you want to rule over us!?

_C'est la vie._

I will not stand by and let you do this. Freedom has been my privilege since I was born, but that does not mean I am not willing to fight for it. You try to set yours above mine, and I will burn them all down. I will cut them down- and you will know that every scream of agony will be because of _you._ I am not a fool, Primus. I am not a fool to be played.

I will not become a tool.

_Foolish child._

Did you not know? That is what humanity _is._ Goodbye, Primus. I will not miss you.

_Do not tell anyone about this… conversation._

I did not intend to.

_Then goodbye, if you are truly sure about leaving._

I have never been surer.

_...strange race, indeed._

* * *

 


	7. Under a Growing Tempest

The world came back to her in fits and starts.

She pushed the memory of Primus deep into the furthest reaches of her mind as soon as she could, shoving it deeper than any other. She would _die_ before that information was given out to anyone, least of all Megatron.

He would take it as confirmation of their superiority, and she…

Her goals had always been clear: give Megatron his body back, save her family, and bring the war to an end. But she had always known what she wanted to stop- and she was human first, and Autobot a very, _very_ distant second. She would _never_ allow anyone to stand over her people.

_Freedom is the right of all sentient beings._

_If Primus wants to place them as the ruling beings on my_ home, _he will have to go through me._

She didn't know if she was vastly overestimating her skills- but her wit and her determination and her skill was all she had. And if she had to get her hands dirty, so others could keep what was their _right…_

She would be able to do so with _no regrets._

_::Megatron?::_

She was so dizzy, and her heart _hurt,_ and there were gaps between Megatron and Optimus and Autobot and Decepticon and _she didn't know what to do._

Still, baby steps first. She could do this, one step at a time. Just… break it apart, slowly.

_::Are you awake?::_

She waited a beat, before sighing. _::As awake as possible. How long has it been?::_

 _::By my chronometer, seven hours. There was a ruckus about Jazz and the other Autobots but that didn't wake you up. You were…_ worse _than unconscious for about four of those hours, before you slipped into a proper sleep. I did not know you had run yourself so ragged.::_

 _::Is that an apology?::_ She asked dryly. _::And… no. You didn't. You were focused on your goal, and anything else came second. I do not blame you for it. If I was going to, I would have started before. I am the same, Megatron.::_

 _::Fools and chess masters, indeed::_ he said. At her snort, he grinned- a full-fledged, boyish smile that hung like a brilliant sun between them. _::Are you okay?::_

She let her senses sink further into her physical body, and groaned at the pain. _::As I said, as well as can be. Get over it. Our decisions have been made, and my body bears the brunt of it. You take care of the psycho-somatic processes, anyways.::_

_::I think you should wake up properly and see where you are, before you talk to me about psycho-somatic processes. There are things you should be aware of.::_

_::Jazz did something, didn't he?::_

He grinned again. _::Yeah. He managed to piss off Ironhide, Prime, and Ratchet in the space of twenty seconds. I don't think the Twins achieved that, and they had a thousand-year head start.::_

A deep, heart-felt sigh. _::Wish me luck.::_

And she opened her eyes.

"J-Jazz?" Her mental voice was normal, but her throat was drier than the Sahara. Slowly, she pulled herself up onto her elbows, ignoring the shocked freeze of his body at her words.

_Holy shit._

She was about ten feet up, cradled against Jazz's palm and his chassis, and was being stared at by… everybody.

_No. Holy fragging shit from the Pit to Primus. I can't-_

_Breathe, Evelyn._

"D- d'you mind putting me down?" She asked tensely, refusing to look down again. "There are some _bad_ memories of-"

 _What did the_ give _me? I shouldn't- damn it._

 _Breathe, Evelyn. You need to get through this, and keep your mouth_ shut.

The world swung around her, but she remained stoically silent, until she was deposited onto the ground. The cold metal had never felt better.

"Jazz," Ratchet broke in, and she felt some alien annoyance flood through her system, "she is fine. Let her go, and we can do this properly."

"She's fine where she is!" Jazz _stood up,_ and she bit out a curse when his foot slammed down inches from her head.

 _This is enough. Time to play_ adult, _in a group of thousand-year old, oh you know what? It doesn't slagging matter._

"Jazz."

When dealing with military figures, the best way was up front, and sharp. With Autobots, the rules only shifted, not broke.

It was time to be harsh, authoritative, and _strong._

"Yes, Evelyn?"

"Let. Me. Go." She kept her gaze locked on his, even as she directed Megatron to minimize the damage she was feeling to her throat. "I just need a little bit of antiseptic cream and water; I'm _fine_ apart from that, and I'll be back before you know it. Just need to rest. What happened earlier won't happen again- I was tired then. I'm… not, now."

He shifted, and a metal-sheathed hand pierced the ground next to her as he leaned down to her height. "Are ya sure?"

She let her lips twitch into a ghost of a smile, and nodded.

He stepped aside.

"Before anything else," she told Ratchet wearily, "I need water. _Now."_

* * *

Optimus really didn't want to do this.

He didn't want to say what he was going to; he didn't want to feel what he felt. But such were the trials of leadership, and he bore the burden as well as he could while not revealing it to his people.

He knew how they would react.

Shock, horror, anger- it all boiled down to one fact: if he said he doubted himself then the effects would be seen in _battle,_ not on base. And doubts in battle led to offlining at best.

Lip plates twisting slightly, he pondered the problem.

He had to apologize to Evelyn.

Her words had been strictly correct, and her reaction had been an honest one. She deserved his apologies…

_One Lord to another._

_I wonder if Megatron knows._

Likely not. For all that he had changed- or so he stated- his basic nature had not. And there was no match for the jealous ego of the Lord High Protector of Cybertron. He had held onto the advantage in war out of morale and intelligence as much as any other variable; perhaps the one fool-proof method for manipulating him was to appeal to his pride.

Evelyn Monroe was… different, in that sense.

Sharp-tongued, but well versed in keeping silent. Ambitious- by _Primus,_ the girl didn't know when to _stop-_ and prideful; she'd walked into their base because she thought she was in the right. He might even call her arrogant, but that, he thought, was pushing it.

Because the girl didn't do what she didn't _know_ she could do.

She wasn't unjustly proud, and that scared the living _slag_ out of him.

The medbay was built exactly to Ratchet's specifications, meaning he had to duck slightly upon entry. Inside, she was talking to Jazz quietly, while Ratchet puttered about on the side. He wondered if he could get away with telling them to leave.

Her eyes, meeting his, held no fear.

… _why?_

He did not understand her, even more than he didn't understand his brother. Megatron, at least, had been willing to conform to society, if for little more than the power it afforded him. Evelyn Monroe had no such aspirations- no such controllable desires.

It unsettled him.

"Are you… doing better?" He asked her solemnly.

She offered him a small smile. "Yes, thank you. My injuries were not as bad as initially expected, and they are being fixed as we speak."

Polite, concise, and nothing more.

The courteous delivery _stung._

"Ah." He waited for a beat, before drawing in a deep sigh. "I am not here just for that, I am afraid."

"Oh?"

"Yes." A glance over to the side revealed Ratchet was gone, but when he turned back Jazz was still hovering over her berth. "Might I have some privacy?"

She looked at Jazz, nodding at him carefully. He slunk back, out of hearing range, and Optimus let himself sink into the chair next to the berth, feeling every last one of his years.

"I came to apologize."

She blinked, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that he had done something unprecedented. Before he could comment, though, she sighed heavily, and said, "It is not your fault, Prime. It is not yours nor anyone's, and that is something we can be… mutually distrustful of. I should not have snapped earlier, but there were mistakes on both sides. I am just glad we can move past that."

"Can we?" He leaned forward, optics bright. And, sure, it was a stupid decision, to question a gift horse- but she was his _brother,_ and he wanted some answers. "It seems to me that you've made up your mind on who I am."

"You are Prime," she said blankly. "We all have untapped depths, but you are simply… clearer… than most. Have I made up my mind? Give me something to change, and I am not cast iron, to be inflexible."

"Nevertheless, I am sorry," he said quietly. It had been his arrogance that had begun this rapidly-devolving conversation, and his assumptions were being challenged around every corner. Child- ha. She was no _child,_ to toy with them so- "I should not have spoken as I did."

_And then there is the little matter of our debt to you._

She let that lie unspoken, for now. "As I said, there were mistakes on both sides. I do not hold your words against you any more than you hold my words against me." At his frustrated sigh, she drew herself up. It made for a not-very-impressive sight. "I am not a fool, Prime. Neither are you. Stop looking for one to blame and accept that I am not something to be foisted off when convenient."

 _Fine. You want to play that game, girl? Then by all means, let us_ play.

"You have Jazz," he said tiredly. How many times had he gone over this in his head? "And you have Sunstreaker. When will you stop?"

"Stop what?" She looked genuinely confused.

He glared. "You _know_ what."

"No, I really don't."

_And so it goes._

"You are a Lord."

* * *

 _::What the hell is a_ Lord?::

Megatron remained silent.

Eyes narrowing, she was about to snarl something- Megatron's white-edged _shock_ had almost drowned out her other emotions- when he sighed, and revealed motivations and impulses.

 _::And you couldn't have told me this_ before, _Megatron?::_ She asked irritably. _::Actually, don't answer that.::_

"I am not one of you," she said aloud, working her way through the seething mass of memories as quickly as possible. "You've certainly said _that_ enough. Loyalty is not something granted immediately, and I've barely spoken to Sunstreaker."

He leaned forward. "I know those who have given loyalty for less."

"Afraid that I'll take advantage of what you've refused to become?" She challenged flatly. "The world doesn't work that way. And I _don't_ hold Jazz's loyalty. It is a bond, of Protector and Protectee. Nothing more."

"I can _feel_ your bonds!" Optimus flared. "I am _not_ a fool! They are free, _sentient_ bei-"

"You think I don't _know that?"_ She retorted angrily. "I would never force them! But your people lie there, Optimus, half-forgotten hopes perishing ungrown _because of your foolishness._ You are a Lord, and you've just _said_ to me that you are one. I might not be a Lord, Optimus, but I am yet strong!"

He snarled low in his throat. "It takes more than an acknowledgement. We've moved past that system, Evelyn Monroe. Just like your people. Where is _your_ feudal system?"

"We," she hissed, suddenly furious, "are not the ones living on another world's _charity."_

Optimus slammed a hand against the berth next to her, growling furiously-

-and she only braced herself against the bed, eyes narrowed in as much righteous fury as his.

Before they could actually _do_ something, though, Ratchet and Jazz were there, glaring and blustering and managing to lower the tension level to manageable. Evelyn felt her hands tremble slightly; she clenched her jaw tightly and turned away.

"What is going on here!?" Ratchet looked close to tearing them both apart.

She shrank back, fear washing over her like a cresting wave. Medics terrified both her and Megatron for good reason.

 _::Megatron?::_ She asked miserably. _::I need… something. Anything. We need to_ get away. _I can't… do this anymore.::_

_::Stand down, femme-::_

::I am not a soldier.::

_::Evelyn-::_

_Breathe._ Closing her eyes, she let the worst of the terror drift away, and then continued.

She twisted her torso, and slipped under the blankets. _::My name means_ life, _Megatron. Not death. And what the_ hell _did he mean by Lord?::_

He hesitated.

_::Megatron!::_

_::This is not something I would have ever told you. Not because it is cruel for you- but because it serves no purpose. You are human and human alone, Evelyn. There are secrets among us that even you need not be privy to.::_

She sighed and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. _::I understand that. I can even approve of it. But this one is apparently affecting me now, so I do need the info.::_

 _::Yes::_ he said quietly. _::You do.::_

Then, he launched into the tale.

_::In the beginning, there were three types of mechs on Cybertron. Similar to your own medieval societies, we had the Three Estates: the secular leaders, known as Lords; the religious figures, who could speak directly to Primus- known as Primes; and everybody else.::_

Her hands tightened into fists. _::It worked, until it didn't.::_

 _::Indeed.::_ He breathed out, long and slow. _::Soon, another group came. They were the common mechs, but ones with too much power and ambition to be content with a dreary life in the slums. Needing to cement their power, the Lords began to force the mechs to swear fealty to them, in an attempt to bring them under control.::_

_::That… worked?::_

_::For a time. Until a Prime rose out of the ashes, and did something that changed our lives forever.::_

She could guess what it was.

_::He took the power from a certain faction of a weak Lord, and built his own army.::_

Oh, yes, she could _easily_ imagine what happened. Earth might have been millennia younger than the Autobots- much less _Cybertron-_ but humans were nothing if not self-destructive.

And she knew her history all too well.

Popes with their own private armies- or the ability to raise armies that answered to them ultimately- led to things like the Crusades. And the Crusades had been some of the most vicious battles that could have been fought at that time, with that kind of primitive technology. Had those self-same knights in shining armor had the kind of destructive weaponry they had _now…_

She shuddered.

On Cybertron, they _knew_ they had a God. So the Prime had not been about spreading religion on the point of a sword, but forcible annexation.

Oh, yes. She could imagine all too easily.

Corrupt leaders, loyal armies. Genocides, for all those innocents caught in the middle- but in the end, it led to Cybertron's Golden Age.

The question they'd needed to ask was, did the end justify the means?

…but what had Primus said?

 _The song is never finished._ That meant… that meant that there _was no end._

Her breath shortened, listening to him.

_::And they did not stop, until nearly the whole of the planet was conquered. Over millennia, the story of his greed and cruelty- his massacres of innocent femmes and sparklings- faded, replaced with the gold-carved version of beauty the latter Primes wished for._

_::We never recovered.::_

She sighed, and pursed her lips. _::Why did Prime call_ me _a Lord, then? And why's he resisting being one so much?::_

 _::Because he is a fool::_ he spat vindictively. _::Because while Prime's are born- Primus himself lays a blessing on the mech at birth- Lords are_ made. _And all one needs to be a Lord is the strength of will to hold a bond, and the unshakeable loyalty of those offered.::_

 _::Sunstreaker has never offered me anything::_ she said mildly.

 _::No. That is because he is_ considering- _or so Prime claims. It could all have been a ploy.::_

_::You still haven't said why he isn't a Lord.::_

Megatron hesitated again, then said slowly, _::That is because it is a matter of pride to him. He is_ Prime- _and has no need to be a Lord. Far be it from him to realize that his people's pride lie fallow in too-old fields. He has_ no idea _what forces he is toying with.::_

It was her turn to hesitate. _::What do you mean?::_

 _::Prime is not a Lord::_ Megatron said, sounding extremely satisfied. _::And his people are tired, of waiting when he will never become one. There is always,_ always, _a vacuum left behind in discontent, Evelyn.::_

No, she wanted to say. No- she was _not_ going to do this, because it was sneaky and underhanded and _cruel-_ but she would.

For every reason against it, she could answer with one for. She needed ammunition. She needed leverage in a rapidly-changing field and she needed it _now._ She was a child, caught in a chess-game that stretched back longer than humans had _existed._ This kind of information was just the kind of coin she was playing with now.

…great.

She had really needed another confirmation of the danger she was in.

 _::I will not be your puppet::_ she reminded him. _::I play my own game.::_

And he could be setting up his own fall. Heart twisting slightly, she wished hopelessly that she could have controlled _something._

 _You can,_ her mind whispered traitorously. _The chips have already been carved- but that does not mean you cannot play them. Deal them carefully, and wait until the end. You_ will _survive this, Evelyn. You will._

The only question was at what price.

Prime had entered in a multi-layered move worthy of Megatron. An apology, a question, and a challenge had been laid at her door; she had to work through the faceted edges first before she could see the true gleam inside.

Megatron, meanwhile, continued to talk.

_::Over time, the divisions in society became more noticeable.::_

She pushed a hand against her face, desperately rubbing away the exhaustion. _::And that, as always, led to hatred.::_

 _::We were stratified::_ he agreed. _::Too much. The highest never saw the lowest as anything more than barely sentient; we saw their ugliness and poverty and weakness and called it shameful.::_ The revulsion said everything he couldn't.

A true revolutionary.

_::Your old society was not without its faults.::_

_::No::_ he said heavily. _::But a theocracy is never kind to its people. A military state was only the… icing on the cake.::_

Huh. So it _had_ been a military dictatorship. But that meant-

 _::When did the disappearances start?::_ She asked slowly. _::And who did you lose?::_

A natural extension of his statements. Megatron was selfish; it was ingrained into his very being. His political motivations had always been a point of contention she had been curious about- but content to leave buried. It had not mattered.

Now, it did.

 _::It is so easy::_ Megatron murmured silkily, sending warning chills up her spine, _::to forget that you humans have such a … prolific history.::_

 _::Answer the question::_ she said softly.

_::Nobody.::_

_::Bullshit::_ she retorted, but refrained from moving for his memories.

He snarled at her- and for a moment, she could have mistaken him for Optimus.

 _::A femme::_ he spat finally, reluctantly. _::Who saved my life. In Praxon. She told me what was happening-_ warned me- _but I didn't listen. I left. Looked at the records, and saw that_ something _was happening. It took me a full two orns to get proof. When I returned…::_

 _::She was gone::_ she said quietly.

_::…yes.::_

God, what was worse- a religious dictatorship where the leader didn't even know the worst of his regime's crimes, or one where he _legalized_ it?

There had been enough death in this war, she thought wearily. Enough death, and enough loss. Cybertron's past was not rose-tinted by any stretch of the word.

And she no longer had any patience for illusions.

At least in a feudal system there had been a balance of powers. Death ran rampant, but injustice had not. For every corrupt Lord, there had been at least one good one. In a totalitarian regime, the hatred festered until it was too late to cut out without blood and sacrifice.

There had been enough sacrifice, hadn't there?

Fine. According to Megatron, there was one way to seal this. He might not be a Lord- but Evelyn hadn't dealt all her cards just yet. She had more than fruitless rage on her side.

Optimus had called her a Lord.

_Be very, very careful what you wish for._

_::I am instigating plan delta-chi, Megatron. It is time for phase two.::_

There was silence from him, before he shifted and sent her a warm feeling. _::Good luck. Prime and Ratchet are going to be gone for about seven hours. Whatever you need to do-::_

_::Got it.::_

Opening her eyes slowly, she whispered, "I need to talk to my parents, Jazz."

He blinked down at her, not even bothering with greetings. "Why?"

"They're going to start worrying," she explained lightly, tamping down a flare of annoyance. "Just… bring Lennox in, will you? I… he'll be the best to talk to."

"…he's with Ironhide."

"And this is important," she said flatly. " _Get him."_

He stared at her for a moment, before nodding. A moment later, he said, "He's on his way."

Dammit. She had _not_ wanted to insult him-

_Control, Evelyn._

"I am sorry," she said quietly. "This… this has not been a very good day."

He frowned heavily. "What did Optimus _say_ to you?"

"A lot." A brief hesitation, but she had promised to give him a choice. Jazz was no longer a pawn, and deserved to be treated as such. "Apparently, I am a-"

"I'm here," Lennox said irritably, walking into the hangar. "What was so important that you needed my immediately?"

She stared at him.

"What?"

"…I need to talk to my parents."

He looked confused. "Didn't you-"

"Yes," she said quietly. "But just because I don't mean to go back doesn't mean there aren't problems with that. They'll start to get worried, and I can't exactly leave them alone for that length of time. And I don't suppose you need me to tell you what happens with afraid parents?"

"I can imagine," he said darkly. "What did you want me for?"

She paused for a moment. "I want to protect them," she said carefully. "But I need help for that."

"…what kind of help?"

"Governmental," she began. "If the 'Cons find out that there's Energon poisoning in my home, well. _I'm_ safe. My parents… not so much."

"You still haven't-"

She felt her eyes close in a slow blink. "I want… to take them away. I want _you_ to keep them safe. And if the Decepticons can find out through electronic records, that means there _can_ be no records. Off the books."

His expression shifted, from confused to incredulous.

"You want me to put them in _witness protection?"_ He asked. "You kno-"

"I already have identities for them," she said evenly. "All I need is access to speak to them. And a two hour blanket during which I can hack the government."

"Not possible," he said flatly. "I don't have that kind of power."

She chewed on her lower lip. "Fine. Drop the government hack. Give me a secure channel to speak to them. Or _you know_ what happens. The story comes out, and you spend a hell of a lot more time trying to suppress it. You'll be lucky to make it _ever_ go away."

A carrot, and a stick.

The best way to get what you wanted.

He glared, sighed. There was little he could say to that- and he knew it. Backed into a corner, he gave in rather than injure.

"That's… amenable."

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I need…"

_To keep them safe. To know that they will not be injured. That my actions have not hurt them._

_Because if that happens… I can't promise that I will still be sane._

"I'm glad someone will be safe."

He nodded tightly. "Expect a vid link in an hour. I'll see you then."

As he left the office, she let some of the tension leave her shoulders.

The masks had not yet come off, but Jazz had remained oddly silent through their conversation. He now reached out, offering her a hand. She took it and clambered up his fingers to pool, loose-limbed, at the base of his wrist.

"You were telling me something, before Lennox entered."

"Yeah." Closing her eyes, she let the metallic whir of his body sooth some more of the tension. "It's… can we go outside? It's been a long time since I last saw sunlight."

"'Course," he mumbled. Walking into the day, she felt better than she had for a _long_ time.

Evelyn had never been particularly athletic; she was primarily academic. Still, the warmth of the sun had, over long months, become analogous to safety- from Megatron, though she hadn't know it at the time- and the thought was now as instinctive as turning away from a too-hot fire.

"So," he prodded impatiently. "Tell me!"

"Right." She stretched lightly, letting the muscles flex. "Give me a moment to enjoy this."

"Evel-"

"I know." Her grin was bright, brighter than she normally offered. "And Prime said a lot of stuff, but it boiled down to one thing."

He huffed at her dramatic pause.

Voice quieter- with a hint of steel- she said, "He called me a Lord."

Jazz nearly dropped her out of shock.

_::Does it really mean that much to you?::_

_::Lords mean_ everything _to us. To those born as warriors- to those who have nothing more than their strength and their loyalty- Lords give us a purpose. You… you cannot comprehend the depth of that trust.::_

_::I can guess.::_

" _What?"_ He asked, deadly furious.

She nodded, turning to see his face. The pure rage there was startling.

"I am not joking," she said. "I did not know what a Lord _was_ until Op- Prime told me. Megatron showed me. He's… very angry."

After an endless moment that held the possibility for _anything-_ Jazz consciously relaxed his muscles.

"Prime or Megatron?"

"Can't it be both?" She returned wryly. "But I was referring to Megatron. Our… plans have changed."

Or they would need to be changed. It was why they were outside. They could talk, and not be overheard. As much as she enjoyed the sun, she'd directed him to a spot that was right between patrols.

They would not be found unless they were specifically looked for.

"Plans?" Jazz asked curiously.

She nodded. "Plans. I… I had Megatron in my head for the better part of nine months, Jazz. I am _not_ someone who's going to jump into the unknown headfirst. We spent _months_ making plans. Contingencies weren't some distant thing to consider, but something I actively created. And…" She sighed. "And I had no intention of coming here if I didn't have a decent chance of survival."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" He sounded… hurt.

She pursed her lips. "I came here because of my compassion for Megatron's position. But what I'm saying is that there are limits- or there were. Our plans have tended to take a nose-dive for the worst lately."

Jazz picked her up, and swung her so that she was eye-level. "Explain."

"Have you seen my med-files?" He shook his head. "Okay. That means that… this will probably come as a surprise. The reason," she said carefully, "for Bumblebee approaching me at the beginning of all this- was Energon radiation, enough to poison a normal human."

"Which was why you told them you had a Cybertronian in your head in the first place," Jazz said, with dawning realization. "You literally _couldn't_ keep it a secret."

"No, I couldn't. And there are _so many more,_ Jazz. So many that Megatron has- that I don't know. That I have, that he doesn't." She shook her head slightly, both regret and anger visible. "I've sucked you into a world of lies and masks, and I can't tell you how _sorry_ I am for it. It's so much worse than you deserve."

He sighed. "We are not the good guys you think of, Evelyn." At her objection, he waved her away. "Not in that sense. But war… war's deadly. War's cruel and harsh and sharp, and if you think I don't deserve it, let me remind you: I was in Spec Ops. For a _lot_ of the war, I- and my group- was the one to do the dirty work. We're not paragons of virtue, however much our ideals are different."

"…if I asked the Autobots their reasons for joining this war," she half-stated, half-questioned, with rising anger, "how many would answer for ideals?" Her voice grew louder with each word when she saw him wince. "For violence? For loyalty? _For fragging revenge!"_

He sighed again. "Too many." A calculating look up at her unimpressed visage. "But the vast majority are out of necessity. Casualties of war… that will never be truly measured."

"How _poetic,"_ she sneered. "You haven't been the ones to face such horrors. I'd honestly say that humans have the corner on viciousness."

"I-"

"But!" She overrode him, marching on blithely, "but that does not mean we are all bad. And your lives were broken, Jazz. I _understand that._ But I cannot comprehend- much less condone- your actions since."

"What the _frag_ is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"That I'm not a saint!" She exclaimed. "That I understand that none of you are, but what burns is that _you act like one._ None of you are angels, and I'm never going to think of you as one. I'm not a _fool_ for that. What _sickens_ me is that you garb yourself in white and gold and expect me to _worship you!"_

He stared at her, and she realized that she had gotten too passionate in that speech.

Damn. Actually, thrice-damn him and his fellow people. They were too much trouble in a world that had enough of its own problems.

She was trying to keep them alive, but as long as they resisted… her job got a whole lot harder.

Damn. Him.

"…bit passionate there?"

"Just a tad." She stepped back warily, before scrubbing a hand over her head and levelling a defiant look at him. "I'm not sorry. I do feel that way."

"Can't say I blame you," he said softly. She felt herself bristle, before he waved that away. "I _do_ understand, you know. There was a time when I was still young- the _war_ was still young- and I was captured. The mechs I got captured with hated my guts, but the lead guy died instead of telling the 'Cons anything."

She winced.

He continued. "Another mech- the only one I considered close- ratted me and the rest of the mission before they could even start on him. I don't… like to remember those times. But they happened, and…" a light shrug. "And I wouldn't try to forget it even if I could."

"Megatron has those memories," she said quietly. "And they're affecting me, too, to some extent. I dream about them sometimes."

He took the offered information gracefully. That, more than anything, told her that he was no stranger to minefields and espionage.

Handy.

"Let's talk about something less… interesting, huh?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, then softened. "It seems like too much heavy stuff. Especially when we've never really talked to each other. Apart from… me torturing you, I mean."

"You never tortured me," he said, looking wounded. "You _saved my life."_

"This, is exactly what I meant," she said dryly. "Everybody says you have a sense of humor. _Megatron_ says you have a sense of humor. And… I haven't seen it."

He shifted uncomfortably. "You're- maybe- right about that. But-"

"I don't want your excuses," she told him impatiently. "But I do want to know who you are."

"And how exactly do you propose we find out?"

She hesitated. "…I played a game with Sideswipe when he took me back to base. Don't know what it's called, but the rules are fairly simple. I ask a question, you answer. You ask a question, I answer. This continues until we reach a question you don't want to answer, wherein I win the game."

"Fine," he said, settling himself for this… new challenge. "Let's play!"

She nodded thoughtfully; smirked. "What is your favorite color?"

"Silver," he said. "And yours?"

"Black. Why's silver your favorite?"

"Going with the easy ones?" He asked. She only looked at him. "Fine. Because it's the color of the stars closest to Cybertron. They're rather beautiful, and when you fly past them you can see the streak of silver they leave behind."

She smiled darkly. "Lie."

_"What?!"_

"Lie," she repeated smugly, leaning forward to catch his gaze. "Because you can see that it _clearly_ has to do with you non-existent love life. The way your optics turn- oh, Jazz! You're… _blushing!"_

Or whatever the hell the Cybertronian equivalent was.

"You figured out that it has nothing to do with the stars by _looking at me?_ Somehow, I find that _very_ hard to believe."

She arched an eyebrow. "Believe it. Or better yet, inspect that little bond node inside of you, and see if you, too, can tell emotions from me." Her smile grew wide, no hints of manipulation or rage evident. She was just reveling in his shock. "Because… I don't know. It might help a little here."

"I. Hate. You." He folded his arms angrily. She laughed outright. "No! I really, _really_ hate you!"

"Mmm-hmm." Stepping forward, she swung herself out slightly, so that she was supported by only the tips of her toes on the stone parapet and hung by her arms above the city. "Your turn."

He glared at her for a moment, then smiled slyly. "What do you feel about pranks?"

 _Ah, yes,_ she thought. _Jazz is, with the twins, a resident prankster._

"Hate them," she said easily, ignoring the sudden downcast turn to his features.

And so it continued, until she felt Megatron wake up.

 _::There's a lunatic messaging me::_ he grumbled. After a moment, he bit out a curse. _::The secure feed is ready. Apparently your parents are taking this harder than you thought.::_

Levity disappeared, and she turned her full attention to him. _::I knew it would be hard for them::_ she corrected wryly. _::…how bad is it?::_

 _::Bad::_ he confirmed. _::They're threatening. And your military aren't exactly helping.::_

_::What are they doing?::_

_::The threats are escalating.::_

She sighed. Today- of all days- seemed the one designated 'let's beat up on Evelyn day.' And she _hurt._

_Still. I'm supposed to be the responsible one._

_So be responsible, Evelyn._

_::Put me on.::_

Aloud, she turned to Jazz and said curtly, "the vid feed came through. I'll be talking with my parents for some time; I won't be responsive. Take… take care of me, will you?"

"Sure thing!" He grinned down at her. "Just… don't blame me if you wake up bright green, yeah?"

She huffed and dove back into the depths of her mind.

_::Megatron?::_

_::You're on in three… two… one…::_

"Mother," she said cheerfully, ignoring the shouts coming from… all sides. When nobody responded, she ducked her head and hissed, _::Get a digital image going, Megatron. They won't pay attention otherwise.::_

_::Give me a minute.::_

_::Yeah.::_

Cold air rushed over her body. She kept her face calm with an effort.

 _::It's constructed, Evelyn.::_ She drew herself up in response, and buckled herself down for it.

_::Let's go.::_

* * *

"Mom," she said again, this time slightly acerbically. The word had no longer left her mouth than she was faced with the tearful face of both her mother and her father. _"Dad."_

It had been less than a week since she'd last seen them.

It felt like centuries.

"Oh, honey," her mother whispered. "What is going _on?"_

She winced. Trust her mother to choose the one thing she was most worried about.

"A lot. And… that's why I want to talk to you. And you, Dad." Her eyes were sharp. "But before that- can you military men please go outside? Just for a few minutes. This is rather… private."

They scowled heavily, but went. Evelyn didn't take any more notice of them.

She was drinking in the sight of her parents, seeing them whole and healthy and _happy-_ and she couldn't have _hoped_ for a better vision. This, she thought, was her dream. It was because of them that she had made her decision to save the world.

They had made her who she was- and she would not want to be any other.

"I _love you,"_ she told them fiercely. "I love you _so much._ But do you remember, Dad, when I was a little girl?"

He nodded.

"I used to ask you when I was little how I'd know what was right. I… I know now that I'm doing the right thing," she said seriously. "I've given up a _lot,_ Mom. Dad. And I've done stuff I'm not proud of. A lot of stuff I'm not proud of. But I know that what I'm doing is the _right thing."_

"Evelyn-" her mother began.

"No, Mom," she said flatly. Gentling her tone, she exhaled sharply. "Please, just let me finish."

They nodded slowly.

"There are things I've done… and I wish I didn't have to. But I did, and they can't be changed." She ignored her shaking hands and trembling voice. "Mom, Dad, I did some things that… can _hurt you."_

_Please forgive me._

"Evelyn…" her father asked quietly, "what have you done?"

She shook her head. "I haven't killed anyone," she promised. "And I haven't done anything… unforgivable. But I have people here, that I am _willing_ to do unforgivable things _for-_ and I can't say anymore than that. What this means, is that I can't come to see you."

Her parents exchanged glances.

"Honey- I can't even begin to say why this is wrong. You're a _child,"_ her mother stressed. "A _child._ We… _we_ take care of you! We can't just let you walk away-"

She closed her eyes.

_Please, please find it in your hearts to forgive me._

"I'm not asking you to give me permission," she said, steel edging her voice in the place of the misery that was washing through her. "I'm _telling_ you. I've made my choice. I… I _want_ to change the world, Mom. And I _can,_ in this."

"We did not raise you to be an idealist!" She shouted.

Evelyn felt her lips tighten. "No. But you _did_ raise me to be a strong individual. And I have _made my choice._ You won't change it."

"Do _not_ take that to-"

"Listen to me!"

Silence fell over them.

She sighed. This was not how she had thought her day would go.

"I love you," she told them. "But I cannot undo what I know. What I've done. The universe is far bigger than either you or I can _imagine-_ much less comprehend." A heartfelt look. "I asked for you because I need you to give me one gift. One gift, Mom, Dad. One gift- and you'll never be asked for anything else again."

Her mother looked so _worried;_ her father was so afraid. If she had needed the reminder of their civilian status, she did not now.

(No Autobot would have ever dared to look so frightened for something so simple as _this._

She wondered what is said about her, that she grouped herself as an Autobot.)

_I can find it in me… to forgive your lack of understanding. Can you find it in you- to forgive my actions?_

"I love you. But you need to leave."

* * *

It took a long time to get them to agree. She didn't tell them everything- didn't tell them _anything,_ actually. The vid link was only as secure as the military could make it, and if any Cybertronian wanted to listen in, they could. She was only too aware of it.

She hadn't threatened, but she had explained.

And in the end, they'd had no choice. It was between their daughter and their life; she'd always known what they'd choose.

She had never questioned their love.

Now, she had given Megatron his instructions. Her eyes were closed wearily, and she was cradled in Jazz's hands. She was waiting… waiting-

 _::The data is here, Evelyn::_ Megatron said solemnly. He could feel her grief, and her anger.

She yanked those emotions back under control, and bared her teeth defiantly, instead of weeping.

_Forgive me._

_::Delete it.::_

_Please._

* * *

"I will see you tomorrow," she told Jazz. "I just need to rest for a little bit- and Megatron's kinda tired too. I'll just sleep, and be out soon enough."

 _::I seriously hope my sleep schedule hasn't been thrown off whack::_ she commented acerbically.

Megatron chuckled. _::We all live for vain hopes.::_

 _::I am no Lord::_ she said finally, ignoring his forced cheerfulness. His spike of old rage was as instinctive as it was worn. Her smile dripped away as Jazz left, replaced with bone-deep weariness. _::I am not a leader of men, Megatron. I've never wanted to be, and never will be. I am_ not _one of you, hard as I might try. Forgive me. But I am not the person you are looking for.::_

He scoffed. _::You are more of a Lord than you can imagine.::_

He fell silent, a sly undertone to his mind. She was too tired to pursue it. All she wanted was to sleep for a _week_ after the kind of time she'd had.

Her sleep was calm, until it wasn't.

Her mental self woke up to a nightmare. The room was cold and white, and Decepticons ringed the walls.

 _Oh no. Primus no! This is not_ happening- _I can't even-_

_::Megatron!::_

But he wasn't answering. She was alone, trapped in this… torture room.

And poor, sweet, _young_ Bumblebee was strapped to the table.

* * *

 


	8. A Phoenix's Ashes

_What crimes have I done, to deserve this?_

Fury and horror warred inside her, a maelstrom of helpless rage spinning out of her control. She hadn't even known that Megatron had tempered his emotions in his memories- though he'd probably done it to save her sanity. That had still left her with nightmares.

Little wonder, then, that she had not known the worst of his crimes.

_Or is this the worst?_

Primus, no. She had offered him forgiveness without knowing what she was giving forgiveness _for._ She had been a child, and now he was showing her what she had done.

Bumblebee writhed on the table, screaming unintelligibly. Decepticons danced around him, rictuses of pleasure sliding around their faces. They reached out and plucked strands-

-strands that made Bumblebee _beg._

She crumpled to the floor, hands tightening on air. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and she didn't bother to bite it back.

She vomited.

"Let him go," she whispered, knowing the worst was yet to come. " _Please."_

But all her words meant nothing to memory. Nothing to these cold, hard facts of war forced on a _youngling_ innocent. Less than nothing to the _monsters_ surrounding her.

(She did not know if she could forgive this.)

And every part of her wanted to close her eyes and turn away. But if she did… if she did, it would not change. This had already happened. Ignoring it didn't erase that.

She had a choice, here. She could turn away, and become just another survivor. Or she could look- and break apart.

She wished it were a choice.

Bumblebee's body jerked around, still screaming. It scraped at her ears; she didn't know when she had begun to cry but her shirt was soaked. Hands trembling, she watched numbly as Megatron's rolling laughter filled the room.

_Unforgivable._

Five minutes lasted centuries.

Within moments of Bee losing consciousness, though, the world went dark. She came to, in her room.

Her head was blessedly silent.

Megatron prowled the edges warily, though he didn't speak. She wondered distantly if he knew that he had crossed a line he never should have even considered.

_::Evelyn-::_

The sheer rage in her mind eclipsed his words.

"How old was he?" She broke in politely. She could do polite. She _was_ polite. She was holding onto sanity by her fingers, and this was all she had of her tattered control.

The shard-woven storm in the back of her mind grew louder, but she still felt oddly calm.

_::What?::_

"How old was Bumblebee when that happened?" Clipped, efficient. Not a hint of rage, though that control was fraying to dangerous disarray.

It got worse when the idiot _sighed. ::Evelyn-::_

"How. Old."

She kicked a glass monitor across the room and watched it shatter. A metal chair broke against the far wall and she bared her teeth angrily.

"How old, Megatron?" She didn't trust her mental voice not to fall into snarls. Her tone was dangerously soft.

 _::In your earth years-::_ He began warily.

The flash of very real fury silenced him.

"In my earth _terms,"_ she spat.

_::…sixteen.::_

Evelyn almost stabbed down. Almost surrendered to the mindless anger lurking in the corners of her eyes. Came _so, so_ close, to that alluring idea- and stepped back.

_::Evelyn-::_

"Don't." Evil lurked in her mind, and she couldn't forgive this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Because Bumblebee was a child, to him. That knowledge was woven into his psyche, and had carried over to hers. _"Don't you dare."_ And it was one thing to know that he had been ruthless, and another thing entirely to see it with her own two eyes.

He had been helpless.

 _Tragedies behind locked doors,_ she thought mockingly. _When forgiveness isn't enough…_

There were no blank slates. Each mech had a tally longer than her, of death and torture. In war, there were no innocents. Old hurts were overshadowed with new scars, and the balance could only be struck at the end.

Only they had never envisioned an end.

If she walked out there now, they would see her sympathy and call it pity. They would think her a child, seeing war for the first time.

She didn't know if she wanted to see war, if this was considered normal.

The end-all, though, to warriors was not words. Actions meant everything to these beings, infinitely more than pretty words ever could. She _knew that._ They did not respect people like the President or the Secretary of Defense- mostly because the shadow of war had never been laid on them.

_Fine. If words won't work, actions will._

Vindictively, she dove into Megatron's memories. It was the first time she'd done so without his permission, and the outrage at the violation was degrading for both of them.

But she wasn't trying to hurt him. Just searching for one memory she _thought_ she'd seen among thousands.

Hope… hope was sweeter than comfort, any day.

 _::You cannot mean-::_ There was a healthy dose of horror and confusion in his voice, but underneath it all a strand of awe shone gold. _::Femme-::_

"Enough," she snarled, suddenly tired of it all. Tired of every damn person who'd called her _not good enough._ Tired and bloodied and bruised, teetering on that knife's edge of believing them. The only thing holding her back was her instinct- that said she could, _of course_ she could. "This is my line in the sand." Eyes rose, meeting his boldly. Furiously. "I. Will. Not. Bend."

Silence. Whether shocked or angry, she didn't know.

And, she realized, she didn't care.

Teletraan had little exotic material that was not available on earth. The only thing missing for the Autobots was the instructions.

Instructions Megatron had.

The burning fury and indignation still blistered. Her hands still trembled; spasmodic shivers still wracked her body. Her reflection in the silver appliances revealed fevered eyes and pale skin. She looked like a mad woman just escaped from an asylum.

The knife-bright smile slashed across her face only exacerbated it.

"I _will_ help them," she whispered. It didn't matter that they had started this war.

Humans had always had such an infatuation with the end of the world. They called it different names: Armageddon, Ragnarok, Kalki, apocalypse- but it was all the same. Hellfire and retribution; people got what was coming to them.

It was time to show these mechs why humans feared the end so very much.

Monsters danced in the shadows, enemies ringed her on all sides. She was alone and weak and ignorant.

 _You want change? I'll_ give _you change._

_::Fuck you, Megatron.::_

* * *

She didn't want anyone to know why she was doing what she was doing.

It was a secret- and this one would as likely shatter their trust as kill her. What worried her was that she wasn't scared.

_One step at a time, Evelyn._

So the first step was knowing what parts were needed, and finding them.

That part was relatively easy. Over a couple months, the entire city had been informed of a satellite dish that was being taken apart mid-desert. It was about fifty miles away from the Autobot base; old and clunky, the iron was corroded and the parts were not helpful for anyone.

If anyone wanted it, they could just walk over and take it.

And Evelyn _wanted those parts._ They were clunky- but the older the model, the closer they were to the reverse-engineered Megatron. It was far easier to handle than if she had to build the smallest pieces by hand.

The second step was getting to them.

That… was a problem.

Time was not on their side, but the only way to gain loyalty was through time. The genuine emotion behind all this was guilt- not Megatron's but her own. And no true partnership could be built on onus.

Finally, she decided to take care of it with a little bit of manipulation.

A few days of skulking in the darkness, avoiding all contact. Then a call to arms that, through a minor programming error, pulled all mechs out of the base for a drill in a forest ten hours' drive away. Finally, a rented truck waiting, and a heart-stoppingly fast drive across the desert to the satellite.

It took her an hour to reach, two hours to pack up, and three hours to return and hide it all. The rest of the time was spent hacking the base's cameras to look like she'd spent the day _at the base._

By the time they'd returned, she was idling over a textbook- Bumblebee had given her all her belongings from his trunk- and looking positively angelic.

Her smirk had gone unnoticed.

_Your loss._

* * *

She flashed a grin at Wheeljack, and continued on her way.

 _Three weeks,_ she thought dryly. _Three weeks of utter loneliness, and growing obsession._

And the damned Teletraan was only half built.

 _::Any thought as to how you're going to tell them what you're building?::_ Megatron asked. _::You know-::_

 _::Yes::_ she interrupted, taking care to keep her tone as irritating as possible. _::I have. But the plan hasn't even begun, and you know that. One step at a time.::_

He sighed. _::Will you ever forgive me?::_

Irritation. Anger. The barest hint of regret.

She _could_ forgive him. The question was if she _should._

_::Ask me that after this is over. I've given you forgiveness before, and you haven't learned. Maybe this will teach you.::_

The thing was, she could understand what he had wanted to achieve. By showing her the atrocities committed by the Decepticons, he'd shown her the horror achieved by Lordless mechs. They _needed_ someone to hold their loyalty- someone strong enough to both protect and lead- or things like _Bumblebee_ happened.

He hadn't counted on her rage.

She sighed as she tugged the last bit of steel into place. There were a few other items that were necessary- and she had no flipping clue of how to get it.

 _Fine. This isn't working out. Teletraan will be built, and they_ will _get what they deserve. What I don't know is how to achieve that goal._

If she told them what she was doing, they would never trust her. They would never _use_ the damn thing. And that completely defeated the purpose of _doing it._ Then there was the lack of usable materials at her disposal. The machine was held together with a mix of glue and spit and prayers; she needed to get other materials to actually make it work.

She glared up at the metal monstrosity.

It was both prayer and curse that had led her to building it. And now, she needed to consider how to bring it back under control. She had started this with a grand goal.

Now she had to get into the gritty details of _how._

Inspiration came like a bolt from on high.

 _::How did we first come here?::_ She asked him, half-purring it through her bond.

Megatron sounded guarded. _::We…::_

 _::We made_ them _come to_ us. _Come on, Megatron! It's time for a little reverse psychology!::_

She was spinning towards her room; she was actually on the hallway for her room.

A burst of pain blossomed along her right side, and the world went dark.

* * *

She came awake in the medbay with a raging headache and too-loud voices.

Or, rather, voice.

Ratchet's voice.

_::What. Happened.::_

She groaned at Megatron's furious question. _::You think_ I _know? I just woke up.::_

_::Then find out!::_

She hissed in displeasure, but opened her eyes nonetheless. She did want to know what was going on… she _needed_ to know. Ignorance had hurt more people in Megatron's memories than cruelty. Than Megatron himself.

So knowledge was needed, but a larger part of her wanted to just listen.

Eavesdropping revealed more, in most cases, than talking to people directly.

She settled in to listen.

* * *

**Seven hours later:**

"Hello," she said coolly, walking into the brig.

Sideswipe stared.

Sunstreaker didn't have the same shock.

"What the _frag_ are you doing here?" He asked furiously.

Someone who had known him any less wouldn't have noticed the undertones of frustration and guilt. Sideswipe sighed, and readied himself for the upcoming confrontation.

Prowl would have ignored Sunstreaker. Ironhide would have threatened them. Prime would have scolded them.

Evelyn smiled.

"I couldn't be here to gloat?" She asked, though her tone took the sting from it. Folding her arms, she settled against the wall. "Wouldn't that make me more… _good_ than you imagined?"

Sunstreaker glared right back and snapped, "I'm not _stupid."_

"No," she said amusedly. "You're just ignorant enough of organic biology to throw acid on me."

"Hey-" Sideswipe tried to butt in.

She tilted her head at him innocently- menacingly so. "Yes, Sideswipe?"

Despite all appearances to the contrary, Sideswipe had a very, _very_ highly developed sense of survival. The girl didn't look angry, but he was only too aware of how often a calm CO had led to horrible punishments.

He shook his head.

"So, on the one hand, we have two mentally deficient Autobot warriors who don't care about their host planet's physical issues." Her smile dropped, revealing calm blankness. "And then, we have the very, very smart Autobot warriors, who saw a danger to their vows, and decided to eliminate it."

 _"What?"_ Sideswipe asked, aghast.

There had been no ulterior motives. They had decided to play the prank, because Jazz was cool with that kind of thing and everybody knew he lived in that hallway. They had gotten the paint from Wheeljack- a special kind that was near impossible to wash off- and waited for someone to come.

They shouldn't have thrown the damn paint. It was a stupid decision.

… _Sunstreaker's_ decision.

Sunstreaker. Sideswipe turned to look at his brother, a wordless scream building in his throat.

Sunstreaker, who was suspiciously silent, and staring at Evelyn evenly.

"You can't prove anything," he said levelly.

She smiled. It was not a nice smile. Sideswipe shuddered.

"I don't need to," she said calmly. "All I need is to tell Jazz, and exactly how much dirt do you think he has on the two of you? Dirt that he buried, after all, means dirt that he can _unbury."_

"Sunstreaker?" Sideswipe hissed angrily, refusing to acknowledge the feeling of betrayal lurking somewhere too close to his CPU. "What the _slag_ is going on?!"

Sunstreaker, the idiot, didn't look at him. "Is that a threat?"

"Of course not." Her demure smile grew shark's teeth. "Why would a small human ever threaten two large, dangerous, _deadly_ front liners like you two?"

Sunstreaker slammed a hand against the Energon bars. She instantly stepped back into the shadows. By the time Prowl had opened the door, she was almost completely cloaked in darkness.

"What-" he began.

Sunstreaker interrupted, voice hitching slightly in rage. "We're fine, Prowl. Just a misunderstanding."

Her gaze didn't shift away from his, level and amused and provocative in the extreme.

Prowl left, and they were alone again. Sideswipe hissed, "Guys?"

"It's called premeditated murder," she told Sunstreaker coolly. "And all I need is to tell Jazz what happened. At best, you'll be discharged dishonorably. If I pushed, I bet I could get you a firing squad."

"…what do you want?"

"You'll get out of here in five hours," she said indifferently. "And there's a small box waiting for you in your room. It has a pair of coordinates. Go to those coordinates, and do whatever you want with what you find there. But- if anyone finds out that it was me who sent you there, well, first of all nobody'll believe you. Secondly, I _will_ get Jazz to bury you both."

"Sideswipe is innocent," Sunstreaker murmured, ignoring his tacit agreement of her threat.

She looked at him and smiled wryly. "Then you'll want to protect him, won't you?"

"That _is_ a threat," he said coldly.

"Perhaps. Does it matter?" A light shrug, that somehow conveyed danger and death and absolute fury in a single, flowing motion. "I'm willing to play. I've come to deal cards, and I've revealed my hand." A slow, sardonic tilt, and a malevolent glitter of eyes that were terrifyingly lacking in blue. "Are you?"

"I'll see you dead," he said flatly.

For a moment, the two- human girl and warrior mech- stood, and for a space of a heartbeat, Sideswipe thought he'd never seen such two different individuals look so alike.

"I think you forget who is telling whom the truth here," she said dryly.

He leaned against the bars, optics narrowing into pale white slits. "You underestimate me."

"And why would I do that?" Abruptly, her tone changed, from ironic to blank. "You have seven days, gentle… mechs. Do something, or I will."

With that, she walked away.

* * *

Steel pushed against Sideswipe's hands, as they stumbled out of the brig. It was daylight.

 _::We can't just ignore it::_ Sunstreaker said bitterly, but an odd cadence to his tone said otherwise.

Sideswipe was angry. And betrayed. And a hell of a lot confused, but he wasn't about to admit that just yet.

No. He was just angry, right now.

_::Sideswipe?::_

Cold resolution filled him. :: _What part of what is going on didn't you understand?::_

_::…I'm sorry.::_

_::No, you're not!::_ And really, that was the whole problem. Sideswipe snarled frustratedly. :: _You slagging tried to_ kill _an innocent femme, Sunstreaker! Without telling me! I'm not about to just_ forget _that!::_

 _::And what did you want me to do?::_ He demanded right back. :: _She's a danger to us all.::_

 _::Yeah::_ Sideswipe shot back. :: _A danger you let blackmail us. She has a hold on us now, and you didn't exactly go out of your way to stop her! You_ admitted it. _Hell- you fragged up, badly. What happened to you?! ::_

The fight drained out of his brother. :: _I forgot that I don't need to protect you anymore.::_

Sideswipe arched an eyebrow ridge, voice as sarcastic as he could possible make it. :: _Listen to me, Sunstreaker. We. Are. Not. In. Iacon. Anymore. Next time you get an_ urge _to protect me, kick it to the curb or I will.::_

 _::Is that a threat?::_ He growled back.

He set his shoulders, rolled his neck, and slid into a fighting stance. :: _Whatcha gonna do 'bout it?::_

_::This.::_

And he leapt at him. They tumbled down the hill, trading punches and exchanging insults.

They also forgot about the box she'd mentioned, but hell to Evelyn Monroe and her strange words and stranger actions.

…that is, that was his resolution until he saw the paper placed conspicuously on the middle of his berth.

Then, his curiosity was piqued.

And really, can anyone blame Sideswipe's curiosity?

* * *

It took him five days to convince Sunstreaker.

Honestly, Sideswipe was surprised that it had taken him that long to wear him down. Sunstreaker rarely managed to refuse him things that Sideswipe _honestly_ wanted to do. If it came down to it, he'd just whine about it for _ever._

They were on their way to the coordinates, but the going was slow.

 _::Too much to do::_ Sideswipe muttered. :: _Too little time. We only have a couple hours 'fore someone notices.::_

_::You think I don't know that?::_

_::…I think you're compromised.::_

Sunstreaker growled heavily, swerving to the side and stopping centimeters from hitting him. :: _I'm not. Get your head in the field. We don't know what's going on. If she wanted revenge-::_

 _::-yeah::_ Sideswipe said flatly. :: _This could be a method for taking it. Guns on ready?::_

_::'Course.::_

They approached the coordinates completely silently.

When they reached it, all they saw was a ruin. Pieces fell off each other; the paint was faded against the background of metal. The silver edges had corroded to rust and ash, in places.

Sideswipe frowned.

"What is this?"

Well, then. Apparently Sunstreaker didn't know either. Instead of answering verbally, he shrugged and moved closer.

"A wreck," he announced after a moment's inspection. "Useless. Any clue as to why she wanted-"

**_Incoming to Autobots Sunstreaker and Sideswipe._ **

They shot each other a careful glance.

**_This is Autobot Sideswipe, reporting to base. What is going on?_ **

Prowl sighed heavily on the comm. **_We have just received a message from Autobot Perceptor. Your signals state that you are close to that area. If you are willing-_**

 ** _We'll do it,_** Sunstreaker said flatly, voice brooking no refusals. **_How far is he?_**

**_…he should arrive within sighting distance._ **

Which meant… on the rolling dunes of the middle of the desert, a quarter-mile in any direction. Sideswipe nodded unconsciously, already readying the basic med-supplies he carried and slipping away from curiosity mode.

Sunstreaker echoed him, hands bristling with trustworthy steel instead of supplies. Anytime an Autobot landed, there was inevitably a Decepticon presence. They'd need their wits about them to survive this unscathed.

A low gleam shone, almost too faint to be seen, in the night sky. Sunstreaker nodded to it immediately.

As it grew brighter, the smell of ozone sharpened; Sideswipe felt his toes curl slightly at the electric burn scoring the air. Teeth gritted, he waited grimly for the eventual fall.

What was that human saying?

_All things that rise, must fall._

How… lyrical. And how true. They were _Cybertronians,_ and they lived lives that were longer than these humans could ever imagine. They were _Gods,_ to these organic creatures; they had stripped the world of the wonder and beauty and grace that was all humans ever saw.

And yet, they had fallen to their mercy.

They, peerless warriors of a brilliant world, were forced to become refugees, dependent on the charity of… humans.

There were so many days when Sideswipe wanted to weep at the way he and his had fallen. Pride was not his failing- that was Sunstreaker's- but in the end, it was hubris that every Autobot had; it was hubris that had started this war and hubris that continued it and hubris that would hold them all until they were ash and dust in the ground of a thousand other earths and a hundred other galaxies.

Hubris might have been Sunstreaker's tragic flaw, but they sure as _hell_ weren't innocent heroes in this mess.

Once upon a time, under a different sky, as a different mech, he'd sworn to see the 'Cons burn.

And while Sideswipe couldn't condone Prime's actions, it was the only way to get what he wanted.

(The complete, utter demolition of Decepticon dreams.)

(Who was the monster? Sideswipe had almost asked Prime once. He'd choked back the words, though, seeing the steady light of horror in Prime's optics.)

Aloud, now, he whispered, finer than slivers of glass, "I will see you dead."

The words felt alien, on his tongue. They felt raw and unwieldy and just a touch acidic.

They felt _wrong._

And it was then, that Sideswipe began to truly understand why Sunstreaker had feared Evelyn Monroe so very much.

* * *

Perceptor woke up quickly; the smaller shell had been specially modified by him to survive impact more or less intact.

Sunstreaker watched it all through narrowed optics.

There was a game being played here, he could _feel_ it. The strings danced just out of his reach, ephemeral and too, too dangerous. She had sent them there, and Perceptor had landed, and _something_ was going on.

Paranoia was an ugly color on anybody.

Glaring, and not knowing why, he decided that if there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was playing puppet. Sunstreaker prided himself on his ability to decode meanings and understand nuances.

He'd thought he'd achieved that already, with her. She had smiled and played along, and he had thought that acknowledging her honor had plumbed the depths of her character.

…only an honorable mech would never have resorted to blackmail.

Ugh. Paint the world green and color him impressed; she had seen his motives- and he _still_ didn't know _how-_ and acted swiftly. He had still been off-balance at her recovery, and she had struck a vicious blow almost immediately.

He wondered why she'd wanted the junk. It wasn't likely that it was useful. It was falling apart at the seams, in fact. It looked decades old, and he was more interested in how she knew where it was, not what she wanted with it. She could get better steel by raiding a junkyard, if she wanted to.

Perceptor struggled to his knees, and offered them both a glare.

"Help?" He asked, voice rasping against the atmospheric burn.

Sunstreaker resisted the urge to sneer at his lack of survival skills.

Sideswipe, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. Reaching out, he dragged Perceptor to his feet and began to do an in-depth scan on him. All mechs were trained in battlefield healing, but Sideswipe had taken to it better than most.

…his relationship with Ratchet had only gone downhill from there.

As that happened, Perceptor was visibly bored.

He looked around, wrinkled his nose, and was about to make a scathing comment- when he saw the metal wreck.

"Is that… what I think it is?" He asked, voice hushed in something approaching…

Awe.

Alarm bells went off in Sunstreaker's CPU, but before he could cut Sideswipe off the idiot was _talking._

"Yup!" He chirped. "It's-"

" _Teletraan,"_ Perceptor whispered.

Silence fell around them.

_"WHAT!?"_

A smug silence settled around them; he began to message Prime when a buzz fell over both their comms.

 ** _Your promise,_** she reminded them, voice echoing coolly over them. **_Do not forget it._**

The blanket silence fell away, to the natural quiet of the desert. Sunstreaker felt his lips twist in anger and outrage, and he disregarded the border of admiration for her fait accompli.

The girl hadn't meant for them to find the junk and bring it in. No, because that would have been far too easy. That would have been far too confusing.

She had meant to bring Teletraan in to _the others._

 _::Shut up::_ he snapped at him. Too many things had happened with Sideswipe's carelessness. _He_ had pulled the last string for this blanketing coffin, and it was up to Sunstreaker to try to cut them out.

Or, at least, to ensure they weren't strangled while at it. _::And follow my lead.::_

Sideswipe huffed through their twin bond indignantly but kept his silence. Sunstreaker turned to Perceptor, frantically running through possible explanations- but before he could say anything he realized there wasn't anybody there. The mech had decided that the medical examination was over and had given in to his inner scientist.

He snarled soundlessly at him.

Scientists.

He hated the lot of them.

"Get back here!"

But Perceptor was an Autobot still, and he didn't listen to orders unless he was on a battlefield. The numb rage Sunstreaker felt, wanting to slam the idiotic mech down into the dirt, was not totally Perceptor's fault. Being played like a pawn was a galling effect on the best of people's ego. To a mech like him…

Well. Nobody had ever said she wasn't gutsy.

"Perceptor!"

She hadn't rigged it to explode, he was sure of that. What was more frightening was that she had managed to drag it out there.

 _::When could she have done it?::_ Sideswipe asked, watching Perceptor. _::Sunstreaker?::_

 _::I don't-::_ he broke off as puzzles snapped into place and patterns were revealed in a horrifically simplistic path. _::How much do you want to bet::_ he asked grimly, _::that the programming error over in that park-::_

_::Joshua National Forest.::_

_::_ Whatever.:: Sunstreaker hissed. _::I'll bet you a rinse and wash that it wasn't an error.::_

Sideswipe was silent for a moment, digesting it. _::You know what that means?::_

 _::Yes::_ Sunstreaker said evenly, an undertone of hatred-woven-fear running through his voice. _::If we're right- she's managed to compromise the entire Autobot security system.::_

A brief hesitation.

_::What're we going to do?::_

Sunstreaker sighed, and pulled the comm to Prime and Ratchet on.

**_Sunstreaker to Prime._ **

**_…this is Prime, Sunstreaker. We're on our way, so-_ **

**_-this is not an emergency, Prime, but you'll want to be here for this. Perceptor landed, he's fine. Over-excited, but fine. Still- it's absolutely imperative that you're here quickly._ **

**_Why?_ **

**_…can't say over the comms._ **

**_Fine. We'll be there soon. Don't do anything rash, Sunstreaker._ **

Pulling back, he looked at Sideswipe. _::We don't have proof. So we're going to sit tight and let this happen.::_

_::Sunstreaker-::_

_::Nothing to it, Sideswipe.::_ She had won this round. Tangled them in their own conscience; bound them to her goals. _::Next time we won't be so stupid.::_

_::Don't tell me you're considering-::_

A low rumble rippled out of his throat, stopping Sideswipe cold. _::Our oaths were never accepted by Prime. We have everything to lose and nothing to gain if we keep our old beliefs. Times are changing, and she is the pivot to it all. I'm not about to lose it.::_

_::First you try to kill her. Now you're furthering her goals.::_

_::I won't lie to Prime::_ Sunstreaker said firmly. _::I'm not that far gone, Sideswipe.::_

A sigh, that could be interpreted as either resignation or rebellion; Sunstreaker decided to take the easier path for once and ignore him.

* * *

There was a party that night, full of glitter and flash and booze.

Nobody knew from where the high grade had come, but it flowed easily, and the Autobots were more relaxed than Evelyn had ever seen them.

 _::Now, if only they were this easy to deal with sober::_ she murmured dryly, letting the nervous edge to her mind be felt, _::our lives would be so much easier.::_

_::Ah, but think of how boring that would be!::_

She snorted, taking a cut-glass cup and turning it over and over her knuckles. _::You could use some boring in your life.::_

 _::Trying to tell me something?::_ He asked.

 _::If I was- and I'm not admitting anything- then wouldn't I be injuring my own goals in the process? You_ are _in me, so…::_

He paused, following her circular logic. _::You think too much.::_

A quirk of her lips that could have been passed off as just a passing amusement was the only thing that made it past her control. _::Says the thousand year old alien who can calculate train timings with nothing more than a second's prep.::_

_::I was just-::_

_::I think you're at a slight disadvantage, here, Megatron::_ she told him dryly, gaze skittering over the throng.

She was only here for a short while, because there were too many problems with her presence, problems that couldn't be anticipated and controlled, so-

"Wha' 're _you_ doin' here?"

She hid a wince, and turned to face Sideswipe with nothing more than an even look on her face.

"Sorry?" Polite, distant. The perfect mixture, with an undertone of innocence and elegance. "Were you talking to me, Autobot Sideswipe?"

"Yeah." He ambled forward, optics narrowing drunkenly on her. She tipped her head back, meeting his gaze calmly- and ignoring her racing heart. "Why are you here?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

 _"You_ brought Teletraan in!"

Well, shit.

Time to bluff like an expert.

Opening her mouth, she let the slightest hint of confusion trace across it before turning to Sunstreaker behind him, and asked flatly, "exactly how much high grade has he had?"

Sideswipe sputtered. Sunstreaker stared steadily at her.

She kept her gaze cool; he would respond to a challenge badly. Just a reminder and a warning, hidden in the brown depths of her eyes.

"Clearly, too much," he said slowly, looking at her as if she was a puzzle to be put together. She didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. "If he's mistaking you for someone else, that is."

_This, is too much._

"Clearly," she echoed blandly, stepping aside and letting him move onwards.

They moved out stiffly, Sunstreaker hissing deprecations into his brother's ear.

She lifted her flute of champagne, admiring the amber depths, and let none of her amusement show on her face. But when she looked up, she could see the contemplative edge to Sunstreaker's scrutiny.

_Game on, Sunstreaker._

She lifted the glass higher, and never let her eyes waver from his- bold and hidden at once.

Her venomous smile held more teeth than a jackal's grin.

* * *

The next morning, Sideswipe was still suffering a brutal hangover, and Sunstreaker was bored. A part of him wanted to leap out and tell Prime everything, but the larger part told him to sit still and wait out the shitstorm that was surely going to come up sometime soon.

Stepping out, he decided to do a little reconnaissance instead of languishing.

Time wasted was time lost, and all that shit.

 _Guesses as to where the girl might be?_ A pull of the security cameras revealed it easily. He bared his teeth and moved in slowly. _Guess turned out to be correct. Hallelujah._

He entered the training ground, and saw her body twisting over the rails and metal bars twenty feet off the ground like they were _safe._

"What are you doing?"

She glanced back at him, and a smile flashed up at him, easy and broad. "Giving."

"Giving."

"Yeah." Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment, as she contemplated a throwing leap over to a second handhold. Suddenly, he realized that her eyes shone with flecks of blue.

"I'm not quite sure what you're doing here," she said banally, eyes sweeping his tensely but the rest of her relaxed.

"Oh, trust me," Sunstreaker said dryly, "I know what I'm doing."

"And what might that be?"

He stretched luxuriously against the metal. "You embarrassed my brother."

She smiled, just a touch rueful. "I would apologize if I thought there was something to be ashamed of."

He looked at her carefully, and took the statement as the apology it was. "And you threatened us into bringing a Teletraan into the base."

A Teletraan she had known very well would have been treated with suspicion otherwise.

"I never did such a thing," she said immediately. "But- if, hypothetically, I _had_ built the Teletraan," she flipped a wrist over the balustrade and suddenly pulled herself up onto the bars, "why would I want my hard work undone by such… _suspicion?"_

A fair point.

His lips twisted into a wry approximation of a smirk. "You didn't deny blackmail."

"Should I have?" She cocked her head back. "You're not one to quibble over nuances, are you?"

He was. Which was the whole _point,_ but what did it matter?

He didn't try to hide his amusement.

_Fine. Unwilling to play that round? Let's change tactics._

"You knew that Perceptor would land when he did. You knew the precise _date and time._ How?"

Her eyes were hooded, and she lowered herself slowly until her feet touched the ground. "If I told you that," she said slowly, lips twitching, "what would the point of the game be?"

 _What? That doesn't make_ sense. _She didn't- Oh._

_How interesting._

"What game?" He deadpanned.

She burst into laughter, sunny and bright. He refused to show his shock, though; over so many years he'd gotten used to being looked at with hate and fear and- very, very rarely- awe. To be seen with amusement was a novel experience.

Nevertheless, her words had been a challenge. And Sunstreaker not only _met_ challenges- he _demolished_ them.

_Game on, little earthling. Let's see what you've got._

"The game of life," she said idly, eyes still sparkling. "The game that we all play. The game that you excel at- and your brother fails miserably."

Amusement died a sudden death as he strangled the feeling of fear clutching his Spark.

"Is that a threat?" He asked harshly.

"No." Her eyes met his, glinting with actinic blue. "Of course not."

"We brought in Teletraan," he reminded her.

She looked ready to snarl, but instead only said shortly, "I think you're vastly overestimating your value."

" _I'm_ overestimating _my_ value?" He asked incredulously. "You were the one who brought me in!"

"And you tried to kill me," she flared back. "I think we're fairly even here."

"What?"

Sunstreaker fell silent, biting back the slew of curses he wanted to suddenly spit out. Because he'd just heard Jazz's voice, and it had been Jazz that she'd threatened him-

Oh. _Oh._ The conniving little _Decepticon._ She'd known that Jazz was there. Of _course_ she'd known. Jazz had been walking at an angle that left him blind, and would have been clear to her.

"You promised too," he rallied desperately, bringing himself under control with a snap. He'd seen amusement and mistaken it for frivolity; she had known his assumptions and twisted it to her advantage.

She hesitated at that, and folded her arms around her torso. "I've never claimed to be an Autobot," she said carefully, "but that doesn't mean I'm a Decepticon."

"What."

Jazz watched them warily, optics narrowed into slits of pale blue. Yet he still didn't say anything, and Sunstreaker wasn't fool enough to question that gift.

"I've never wanted to be an alien," she said finally, eyes boring into his.

Realization swept through him, and left him wanting to fall to his knees and weep. How much had he lost, in this one gamble? He'd betted, and the dice had turned out to be loaded.

More fool he.

She had not been following the Autobot's honor, nor the Decepticon's. She'd chosen _human_ honor, with all its contradictions and fugue.

A scream built in the back of his throat, caught back only by the last vestiges of pride and honor.

"When," he whispered brokenly, "did you intend to tell me that you had no intentions of holding our loyalty?"

Her eyes narrowed with confusion for a moment, then softened peculiarly. "You know what Prime told me, after I was questioned in the meeting and was in the medbay?"

He glared at her.

"He told me I was a Lord," she said lightly, though she still scrutinized his face. He didn't dare realize the hope that replaced the despair. "And I have no intentions of not living up to Prime's expectations."

"…how dare you."

That… was Jazz.

An angry Jazz, and that emotion hung on him like a bad coat. There was enough mean-spirited rage there to drown an elephant; Sunstreaker didn't deny that he was stunned at the fury packed into his small build.

"How dare I what?" She asked, voice unchanged. Yet a sharper note of tension hung in the air, unbalancing the tenuous grip Sunstreaker had managed to find in all this.

"You're givin' them false hope," Jazz spat. "You can't hold bonds, and that-"

"I," she said icily, all pretense and mirrors falling away under sheer outrage, "cannot believe you would say such a thing. I _fucking hold_ you, in a bond, Jazz!"

And this, Sunstreaker thought, was more important than any words exchanged. The way she reacted to angry Jazz was infinitely different from how she'd reacted to angry him. With him, it was about dominance.

Stand tall, and let the world sneer at his arrogance. He would break before he bent. Jazz, on the other hand, would bend to those worthy. Would take everything Evelyn said, and if she made sense…

Jazz was no fool.

With Jazz, she debated.

"A bond that don't mean anything to you, and everything to us!"

Her eyes narrowed. " _What_ has gotten into you today? You've never been this angry at _anything!"_

 _"_ Bonds mean everything to us," Jazz said dignifiedly. "They're not a coin to spend when you want to! You can't _lessen_ that into-"

The harsh planes of her face relaxed slightly, so she looked only severe instead of furious. "I'm not," she said gently, cutting across Jazz's bluster. "Do you really think I would dare, Jazz? Or- if you _do_ think so badly of me- do you think _Megatron_ would let me? Vows mean more to him than anything else."

Jazz's jaw worked.

She shrugged, and smiled an oddly pained smile. "I would never."

"…I'm sorry."

"If I thought there was something in there to be offended by, I would have demanded it already," she said dryly.

He was startled by the immediate forgiveness.

Then Jazz tilted his head. "You couldn't believe _I_ said anything against you?"

She hesitated, then sighed deeply and confessed, "I never thought I'd get this far."

Wait. What?

Her eyes met Sunstreaker's optics for a bare moment, and he was stunned at the vitriolic rage in them. There was enough self-loathing to shame even Starscream.

…enough to hide the hint of regret.

"I was supposed to die," she said lowly, not noticing the dawning horror on his face, "according to our predictions, I was supposed to die before you woke up. I didn't expect you at all, honestly." A loose shrug. "I'd readied myself for it. Our plans weren't going to last past saving my parents, and initially that was going to be a bargaining chip for revealing Megatron's presence. Then Bumblebee saw my Energon poisoning, and it all got shot to hell."

"You want to leave," Jazz said flatly, daring her to contradict him.

She looked back steadily. "I can't. Even if I did- my parents are gone."

She had burned that bridge, in other words. The moment Megatron entered her mind, her old life had been burned into ashes, and out of those ashes she'd blossomed, like a phoenix. She'd gotten over that brokenness- or else she wouldn't have been able to do what she'd done- but nobody really ever let go of their primordial dreams.

Even if she wanted to go back, she couldn't. There was no life left for her there.

Sunstreaker wondered if this was what it felt like, to balance on the cusp of a new world, and not just accept the change- but embrace it. If spreading your winds and lunging into the unknown was always this terrifyingly exhilarating.

She'd given up that life; she'd found another one here. If she wanted to pretend that she had a choice in the matter- that was a fool's choice, and one he wouldn't dare let her make. She represented too much to him, to _Sideswipe,_ to abandon now.

"My Lord," he murmured.

Her face went white, and she swayed against the catwalk. "Sunstreaker-"

"The strength of my will lies in barren lands," he recited slowly, feeling the words pull out of him like a fish on a string. These were ancient words, vows that had existed before time immemorial. "Untested. Unsown. I take shelter under your wisdom, and pray for your bond."

He felt something in his spark break, a little, when he got to the next part.

But sometimes, a little sacrifice was necessary, to get what you wanted.

He knelt against the ground, head bowed. Not the one knee of respect, but the double-knee position of absolute surrender. His armor retracted at a command, revealing the motherboard of his body normally hidden at the juncture of head and neck. Head bowed, he could not see her face- and he could not guess what she felt.

The silence stretched on and on, and he wondered if he hadn't made a mistake. The rest of the training room- that had been ignoring them- was now avidly watching.

All it would take was one tap, and he would be dead.

Completely, utterly dead.

The vulnerability was the _point_ of the entire rigmarole. Without it-

-he shuddered when he felt a ghost touch on his helm.

She stepped closer, noiseless as a hunting predator. Each movement was subtle, rippling muscles lashed over bone and held under absolute control.

Sideswipe burst into the room, and faltered at the sight before him.

Sunstreaker had knelt in a position that left two catwalks run parallel to his head, giving her easy access to his vulnerable point. Fear, and something much darker, coiled in the base of his spine- spasmodic shivers of an instinct he should have been able to suppress.

Her footsteps echoed on the metal, sharp and unforgiving.

Each step closer was one to his doom.

He was putting his trust in her- his life in hers. It was an immense responsibility; she held not only his life but his _honor_ in her hands. There was something beautiful about that, he thought. Something deep and life-changing, if he could think past the haze of fear.

And _that_ shouldn't have been there. He was a front-liner. He put his life on the line every damn time he went out there, and it _mattered_ to him. His pride was all he had, most days.

And he was giving it to her.

He wondered if she knew what that meant.

The way her hand tightened, suddenly too-close to the displayed motherboard, told him she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. It wasn't so much as a show for others, as it was for him. She was not goint to be taken advantage of in this relationship.

The moment hung, motionless, for an eternity. A tableau endless and ended; the world was dusted in shades of rising sun. It would rise in a few moments.

It was amusing, what one thought about, moments before they died.

Then she leaned forward in an abrupt movement- a snake striking. Into his ear alone, she whispered one word. He shuddered fully, giving in to that relentless, irrepressible girl.

_(Mine.)_

* * *

_What have I done?_

The question was not to be answered just yet. There would be repercussions soon, but right then nothing. Astonishment had taken them all by storm, and it was…

_::Do it.::_

_::Already?::_ She asked, surprised. Sunstreaker still knelt, there-

_::Now.::_

She sighed, more resigned than angry.

Turning, she locked eyes with Jazz. "A gift," she murmured, suddenly aware of the tipping balance. Too much, too little. They needed to scale back their schedule, she decided. By probably a year, if their expressions were anything to go by. "As apology. Or promise. Whatever you want it to be, really."

_Call it what it is, Evelyn._

A threat.

"Evelyn-" Jazz stepped forward, but she didn't dare let him closer.

She had to prove she was untouchable. She was as good as them. Better, even. Her expectations had not only crashed and burned in a myriad of ways already- they had left her with scars that were hiddenly visible. They only needed to dig in the closet for a few skeletons.

She tacked on a crooked smile that felt it was going to fall off like so much burned toast, and said, "We all have our penances."

She had expected his recoil, but that didn't lessen the hurt. Her gentle tone only heightened the sting of the words.

_::Do it.::_

_::On my way, Your Majesty.::_

Slowly, she moved to the highest parts of the catwalk- where it was no more than slats of corrugated metal welded together. Muscles tightening, she closed her eyes, and began to move.

* * *

Sunstreaker watched, numbly, as she moved on the metal planks. The spins and twists from the carefully choreographed movement created their own melody, jarring at times but sweepingly sharp.

There was none of the elegance, his subconscious noted, of normal Cybertronian dance. No romance or beauty; _Kaon_ music could have sounded better than this.

Still, in the arching, winding movement, there was a grief that Sunstreaker would never have dared to give voice to. He was a drawer, not a dancer. He could not tell the subtleties of one movement from the next, but _something_ echoed in her oddly graceless leaps.

Echoed of lost times and forgotten happiness.

Not wholly Iacon; not Praxonian either. Perhaps a hint from Kaon- but still, completely, her own.

A blend of lands that left him bitter-spirited and furious.

…and mourning.

He knelt in the middle of her dance, and felt like the fulcrum upon which she spun. Like the axis, around which she danced.

He wondered why he wasn't a little more offended by that description.

* * *

She dragged herself to the top again, and felt the familiar burn in her arms. A single, flowing motion across crumbling metal; she felt Megatron's memories dancing just out of reach.

She'd called it an apology. It was, but also represented so much more. A full year of careful practice had ended in this.

She had been a dancer, once upon a time. Before the world caught up to her, and she had other things to do. But before then, she had had lessons and had been fairly good at it.

Megatron'd been instantly intrigued.

A last roll, and she ended in the perfect spot- the catwalk right across Sunstreaker. He watched her, something too close to despair darkening his optics.

She felt her jaw clench tightly.

_::Ready?::_

_::Of course.::_

She stepped closer to the edge, and saw dread tighten his shoulders.

_Forgive me._

"I'm sorry," she breathed, lighter than a breath of light.

And she stepped off the balustrade.

* * *

Jazz didn't know what others watched, but he saw an angel fall from heaven- fall from a bridge of sunlight and metal.

Her limp body tumbled like a leaf over the currents; a small part of Jazz wanted to leap forward and snatch her out. But to do so was to break the spell she'd woven with her bare hands and feet, and he would not break that if he had any other choice in the matter.

He'd seen that step- a single step of absolute faith, and utter trust.

No mech had dared to so much as breathe in the silence that followed the fall.

And as she fell, one final secret was heralded under the glowing backdrop of the sunrise. He had to commend her timing; it lit up the room in shades of gold.

Aurelian cloth spiraled away from her arms- a dusky shade that shone like burnished copper. Like the cloth of kings of old. Like…

 _Like an angel's chains,_ his mind supplied.

The slap of her feet hitting the floor was too-loud. She didn't move from that position, and they could all see the incongruous beauty, the distorted mirror, between her and Sunstreaker.

Head bowed back, her hair covered her face.

 _A fallen angel indeed,_ Jazz thought, half-way to hysteria. _And she called us all angels._

 _…does this mean that she defied_ Primus?

* * *

 


	9. A Uniting Betrayal

"You're going to do this, you know," Jazz said amusedly.

Evelyn glared back at him. "No, I'm not."

"You're acting like a child."

"I _am_ a child."

He arched a ridge plate, deliberately mocking. "Really?"

Her eyes narrowed back. "Jazz-"

"Evelyn, the thing's been set up." He folded his arms and looked steadily back at her. "Really, the only thing holding this back is you. And you don't have a good reason for _not_ doing it."

_::Megatron?::_

He hesitated. _::I think… we should go for it.::_

 _::Fine::_ she said flatly. _::But this is a bad idea, and when shit comes down I'm putting all the blame on you.::_

_::Why not Jazz?::_

She snarled at him. _::He isn't the person who's always supposed to back me up!::_

"Fine," she told Jazz aloud, brusquely. "But there are conditions."

He grinned down at her, all teeth and metal. "Name 'em."

"I can't be a target," she began. "The soldiers know that stuff can go wrong. And, for heaven's sake, don't tell them to go easy on me."

Jazz shifted slightly, a minute movement that left her scowling at him with a gimlet eye. "Don't, Jazz. I can take care of myself."

"I know. But- ya're still a _girl,_ Evelyn." He shrugged, lightly. "And they're not the most meek guys in the world."

Her lips twisted. "An understatement."

He frowned suddenly. "Are you still broken up 'bout Bla-"

"Of course not," she said smoothly, cutting him off. "…but this is still a mistake, Jazz, and when Prime's screaming bloody murder for you I'm not going to bail you out. Promise."

"Eh," Sideswipe muttered, lowly, to her. "Prime's more than used to screaming. He's not going to snap at _you,_ not if he's not done for us."

She made a face. "It'd be just my luck, to see him snap at _me,_ after _you_ pushed him to the brink."

"Pessimistic much?" Sunstreaker asked archly.

"You're one to talk," she retorted acidly. Turning to Jazz, she warned again, "this is a _bad idea_."

He leaned down and said cheerfully, "Good thin' we _thrive_ on bad ideas, then!"

She threw her hands up. "Fine."

That single word held a wealth of anger, but Jazz didn't seem to notice- or more likely, care.

Stalking out, she didn't look back.

* * *

Sideswipe remained hunched over his arms, optics gazing blankly at the metal.

He was, normally, an easygoing mech. He laughed, played pranks, and shot Decepticons. He abused Prowl, irritated Prime, and not so much as annoyed Ratchet as worked him into a frenzy.

And he was absolutely, utterly, undeniably an Autobot.

In the space of a few months, that faith had gone; his lackadaisical nature was being ruptured; _Sunstreaker_ was acting weird.

In fact, Sunstreaker was the source of a lot of his problems. The mech had not talked to him about the possibility, though both had acknowledged her potential in the back of their minds. Sideswipe had never intended to _act_ on the damn idea.

Sunstreaker had.

And he had bound the two of them to an organic creature that had no abilities beyond manipulation and speech. She was _weak,_ and their bonding to someone such as her was more for her _protection_ than for them. That… that rubbed him raw, in ways he couldn't express. It was a mockery of a higher truth he'd never truly understood, but lay at the bottom of his values all the same.

He couldn't believe Sunstreaker.

His twin had retreated almost immediately, avoiding the rest of the base- moreso than usual. There had been a snarl on his face, the one time he'd tried to talk to him. Probably, the idiot regretted what he'd done. It had been a move that was as foolish as any of Sideswipe's schemes. There was a very, _very_ small part of him that recognized that irony and laughed.

 _What the hell had Sunstreaker been_ thinking? _She can't-_

Jazz watched him, now, with too-knowing optics. That presumption galled him, Jazz's assumption of what he felt. Jazz didn't know Sideswipe, anymore than Sideswipe knew him. They were joined only through blood and war and debts.

 _And,_ his mind commented archly, _one earthling femme._

He wanted to snarl back at that smug little voice, but bit back the words with an effort. This was... done. Finished. He could only move on, not cut it off.

"You think she's weak," Jazz said shrewdly, optics hidden behind his visor.

Sideswipe struggled not to react, then decided that stoicism didn't matter, not when it would come out anyway. Better here, when they were alone, than outside, where it could have repercussions he couldn't even guess at.

"You don't?"

Sunstreaker shifted, looking ready to speak, before subsiding at a gesture from Jazz.

"She's a human femme," Jazz said evenly. "She's not very strong, in the sense of the word that you're probably thinking of."

"Oh, I know exactly what she's capable of," Sideswipe said, with a bitter laugh. "She's smart and manipulative and cunning, and the only reason why she took our bonds was because she already had _you._ She wouldn't be hurt by the Autobots with your protection, and she needed someone to go against the 'Cons. Who better than front-liners like us?"

That she had taken the meaning of that bond and twisted it into a weapon was degrading for all of them.

Jazz waited, watching him calmly. "You're right."

"I am?" Sideswipe echoed, startled.

Sunstreaker frowned too, but continued to avoid speech.

"Yes. But what you need to know- to realize- is that she is not who you think she is."

"What?" He asked, genuinely confused.

Jazz tipped his head to one side. "What crimes has she confessed to?"

He hesitated, and Sunstreaker answered. "The beginning of a civil war, the mass-genocide of femmes and sparklings, the death of Chromia-"

"Exactly," Jazz interrupted, levelling a finger at Sunstreaker. "But what you need to know, is that she ain't responsible for any of that shit. _Megatron's_ responsible."

…a novel idea. Sideswipe felt something shiver deep inside his spark chamber.

"She's incredibly smart," he said quietly. Earnestly. "And very, very good at acting. You'll never see past her shields if she doesn't want you to- and even that takes an immense amount of trust. I don't think anyone's actually one of her true confidantes."

"What do you mean?" Sideswipe asked blankly.

"I mean," Jazz said bluntly, "that whatever else she tries to become or _tells_ you that she is- she's still a youngling, Sideswipe. She's fast and sharp and angry, and dangerous as any mech, but she ain't independent. By human standards, she isn't even _an adult._ She's strong, but terrified out of her _mind._ Imagine-" he broke off, fingers curling frustratedly. "Imagine that you had to enter such a world. She's dealing, but there's a hell of a lot of slag she _can't deal with._ She needs protection, and guess what? She fought for it."

"I can't-"

Jazz shook his head. "I'm not explaining this well. Just see, yeah?"

The screen flickered on around them. Sideswipe barely had a moment to admire the clarity of the images and smoothness of Jazz's plan, before his entire focus was on the fight in front of them.

In his peripheral vision, Sunstreaker straightened, from disinterested slouch to wary alertness.

On the screen, the fight had clearly just begun.

Lennox and Epps circled Evelyn, all three bodies hunched slightly. The two soldiers prowled the edges, eyes watchful and body language threatening.

Evelyn moved much slower. The silent confidence the others exuded still was not clear in her body, and Sideswipe could identify eleven different badly-defended positions that were results of just plain ignorance.

He resisted the urge to point them out.

Then, Epps moved.

It was a quick, sudden lunge across the metaphorical circle they'd been treading. Evelyn leapt back, jumpy, but Epps was larger.

 _Use your speed!_ Sideswipe wanted to howl.

She swung out a clumsy leg, and managed to land- perhaps- a bruise.

Epps bore down on her, adrenaline letting him ignore that slight pain-

Watching grimly, Sideswipe readied himself for the inevitable kill shot.

-Epps punched her across the face.

She landed on all fours, shoulders hunched, about three feet away from them. Her head remained bowed, and there was a slight edge of defeat there.

Sideswipe turned to Jazz. He almost asked what the point of this useless exercise was, because she wasn't strong enough nor trained enough to take on two Army Rangers. There was no purpose, so why would he…

The thoughts trailed off, because Jazz had a smile on his face.

Now, Sideswipe was certain that Jazz was not a sadist. He'd never been anything other than swift in dealing death. He'd always been honorable and…

…scheming.

He whirled around to the screen, just in time to see her head snap up- a predator's slow arch suddenly clear in ever line of her body.

Her eyes were chalybeous, and Sideswipe felt dread sink into every wire of his body.

Epps hadn't noticed the danger, but Lennox had. Evelyn- _Megatron,_ Sideswipe reminded himself firmly- took full advantage of that fact.

She pushed herself upright, muscles locked down under flawless control. Her stalk forward was quiet; as Epps suddenly whirled around at the realization of a threat behind him, she _acted._

A leap upward, as she delivered a kick to his chest. He wheezed, pushed backwards- but Lennox had entered the fray by that point, so it didn't really matter.

She was sinuous as a snake, twisting around their bodies in a flowing motion that reminded Sideswipe, vaguely, of Ravage before the war had begun. Of a _dance,_ in Kaon, amidst thousands of other mechs-

-"Primus," Sunstreaker whispered hoarsely, at the same moment. "Is she _dancing?"_

Nobody answered.

Her arm twisted Lennox's back, just as he tried for a punch; in one movement she twisted upside down and wrapped her legs around his head, forcing his own weight against him-

-Epps lunged out of the darkness and managed to get a fistful of hair in his fist.

"Let. Him. Go." There was a steely note in his voice, and none of the shock of adrenaline had bled through.

Sideswipe could almost feel impressed.

Except he'd made a fatal mistake, and she didn't hesitate.

* * *

The world had faded to shades of grey.

A punch across her face had left her control shattered, and Megatron had not hesitated. He'd leapt to the forefront of her mind.

While she'd struggled to overcome the shock- more than the pain- he'd taken control; she was left to watch numbly as he accomplished what she'd _never_ be able to do.

 _::Okay::_ she said slowly, as he leapt, clinging to the wall for a brief second before landing on the ground, lighter than a cat, _::when the hell did you watch Iron Man, and_ why _do I feel like I know the Black Widow's stunt moves better than her?::_

 _::If you didn't want me to watch something, then you shouldn't have told me_ not _to watch it.::_

She sighed irritably. _::I'm not using reverse psychology on the voice in my head, Megatron.::_

 _::What am I?::_ He shot back. _::A voice, or Megatron? Make up your mind, femme.::_

Epps aimed two punches at her stomach, and she fell silent in favor of watching Megatron dispatch him. The high kicks and rolling gait were not natural to Megatron's frame of mind- and it showed in the choppiness of his blocks.

_::You're the lovable voice I listen to when everything else is lost, you piece of metallic scum. Can we get a move on, or are you just trying to deny Epps the bliss of darkness?::_

_::Frag you, Evelyn::_ he snarled eloquently.

She grinned back, all teeth and blood and vengeance. Megatron had met his match, at least, in her wit.

* * *

The liquid assurance in her stance was startling, especially when contrasted with the hesitance of before. This was no human girl, to be chary of the two soldiers. She was Megatron, and millennia of experience boiled down to this moment.

This, Sideswipe realized, was the mech who had battled Prime to a stand-still again and again, all the while fighting on two fronts.

Epps crashed to the floor within seconds.

Her jabs had been perfectly aimed, from solar plexus to the small bundle of nerves in the back of the neck. He'd never had a chance.

"That," Jazz said into the stunned silence of the watching room, "is what I was talking about. Evelyn doesn't need protectors in that sense. What she needs are… ugh. To put it one way, she's a girl in over her head. Struggling to stay afloat, and we're her land. She needs us to be solid, and there, at the end of the day."

Sunstreaker huffed a laugh that was only half-tired. "She picked a hell of a group to be _stable."_

Jazz shrugged. "I'm not her keeper, Sunny. Neither are you, or Sides, or anyone else. Megatron isn't responsible for half her slag and gives her ideas for the rest. She's damn good at what she does, and doesn't need babysitters."

"How do _you_ know so much about her?" Sunstreaker asked, voice particularly dry.

"I asked. And I noticed. As much as she says a lot- pay more attention to what she _doesn't_ say. Makes stuff a lot more interesting."

"To say the least," Sideswipe muttered.

Jazz leaned back against the wall, deliberately threatening. "Still not convinced?"

"That she's that good?" He asked flatly. "Not a chance in hell, Jazz."

"Then what about the argument that she's scared out of her head?" Jazz asked. "That she needs someone to stop her from flattening us all, because if she panics then she has the ability to completely break us apart?"

"What?" Sunstreaker asked, just a hint worried.

Jazz bared his teeth. "She's got the nuclear launch codes of the United States of America. One of the largest armed countries on this planet. Things get too bad, and she's not above committing suicide if she thinks slag's too much. If we become too much of a threat-"

 _"Primus,"_ Sideswipe managed, voice a hiss. "She's suicidal on top of everything _else?"_

Jazz quirked a smile. "Listen, and see, Sideswipe. I promise- there are issues there. But not so many as to completely break you. Swear."

"You're saying I should give her a chance," Sideswipe said slowly. "You're saying I have assumptions, and they aren't correct."

"Are they?" He asked wryly. "We all want her to fit in a mold, Sides. Autobot, or Decepticon. Human, or Cybertronian. Good, or bad. When you're in Spec Ops…" He shrugged. "Stuff happens. You can't see the world one way or another. You two leapt into a bond with someone you wanted to be a certain way, and I swear to Primus she isn't that."

Sunstreaker nodded. "We can… try. This is done. Prime said it- we can only go forward, though we ought to learn from the past."

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't prepare for the future," Evelyn said levelly, walking into the room. Her eyes met Sideswipe's calmly, and he wondered exactly how much she'd heard. A far more exasperating realization was that she and Jazz might have orchestrated the whole thing from the start. "I know this was sudden. None of you guys wanted this, and it happened, and you're struggling to move past that. I _get it._ When… when Megatron entered my head, it was bad."

Which was clearer than she'd spoken to Jazz, if his frown was anything to go by.

"Really bad," she continued. "But you sit down, and cry, and moan about life. Then you do what needs to be done, because doing anything else isn't an option."

Sunstreaker leaned forward.

She turned to him, and said intently, "I'm sorry, for what I did to you. I said this to Jazz- and I'll say it to you. I take care of my own. I… I play people. It's in my nature, like shooting is for you. But, now, I won't. You deserve better, and I'll treat you like it." A wry smile. "I suppose Nabokov put it best, didn't he?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Vladimir Nabokov," she said. "In _Lolita._ It goes… 'Don't cry, I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is.' A… true statement, isn't it?"

The corollary to that statement was if they betrayed her, she would destroy them. For every action, an equal and opposite reaction. For every deeper bond, betrayal bled more.

Sideswipe wasn't a mech used to thinking over things so much. That was Sunstreaker's job, but for a brief moment they'd swapped lives. She was Evelyn- organic, weak, and small.

She was _Megatron-_ and the word weak had never applied to him.

"I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship," he said. Optics narrowing on her small smile, he flashed her a carefully cultivated grin. "What d'you think about pranking?"

He ignored Sunstreaker's groan- but did notice Jazz's amused, "go on and break his heart, Evelyn."

"I hate pranks," she told him easily, but her eyes sparked with laughter that startled him. "But if you and Jazz were to do one to… say, Ironhide…" She grinned at him, and turned to Sunstreaker with an open, infectious laugh. "I won't be able to deny nor confirm my people's involvement. The amusement the entire base gets would be… a complimentary bonus."

He gaped at her.

"I think this is the first time a CO has given me permission to play pranks," he said unsteadily.

Her grin grew slightly waspish. "I haven't given you permission, Sideswipe. Just…"

"Just not _not_ given permission," Jazz broke in.

Evelyn mock-glared at him. "Did I ask for your opinion?"

"Did ya need to?"

"Of course I did," she said primly. "I'm your… CO. According to Sideswipe. I quite like the ring of that, don't you, Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker startled badly, and looked quite… irritated at that. Sideswipe stifled a snicker at his attempt at looking haughty.

"Of course," she continued, lips twitching, "I can't imagine that either of you two would coerce somebody else to do such a thing… would you?"

Jazz murmured, all wide-eyed innocence and roses, "Of course not."

"Mmm-hmm. Enjoy your week off." She rose for the door. "Next week we begin _planning."_

* * *

She had always danced.

It had taken Megatron a long time to understand that his appearance hadn't meant she would drop everything to help him. It had taken her just as long to acknowledge that she'd have to be willing to sacrifice everything if she wanted to succeed.

But she had loved to dance, and even when he sneered at her moves and called her _notgoodenough_ she'd limited her reaction to tiredness and muted fury.

Over a year, they'd sketched out possible reactions and likely movements. They'd plotted a plan, pulling Megatron's knowledge and Evelyn's shrewdness, and received for all their efforts survival.

Her plans had begun to run out.

And that terrified every cell in her being. She'd improvised a little, here and there, but the basic elements: bring Jazz back, protect her parents, and reveal Megatron's existence had all been achieved. The next goal was both shadowy and clear.

To bring Megatron back into his own body.

That… would take some work. She'd already told him to scale back their plans, and they _were-_ by nearly a year. Slowing down reactions and actions; she hoped to limit their rage and, if nothing else, understand their culture before she began ripping them apart.

It had taken him about seven weeks to tell her why he spent the time after her dance lessons so silent. When he finally had, she had presented an answer-

-and a question.

He'd loved the ambivalence.

The choreography had taken _months,_ because they were building a new dance form from the basics of seven varied ones across Cybertron. Each kick had been analyzed and broken down; every damn movement across metal and wood and stone planned and executed slowly.

Her instructors had told her it was stupid. They'd looked at her plans and sighed, eyes shouting _impossible_ even while they helped her out. She'd smiled sheepishly and, secretly, bared her teeth.

The height of the leaps were Praxonian in influence; the tumbles and falls had only been taught in Kaon; the tap-tapping of her feet against the metal was undoubtedly from Vos.

The ending, though, was all hers.

They'd debated for the longest over how to end it, and if they did, how to ensure that it was appropriately dramatic. They both knew that ending it with a whimper was not an option.

He'd thought of the fall- it was an idea she'd never've come up with. His grim amusement had left her thinking she was being duped.

He'd shown her his reasons, then, and Evelyn had cried bitterly for hours.

Because the depth of remorse and guilt Megatron had for his actions was enough to drive anybody crazy. It was… terrifying, in a sense, how close he was to that metaphorical cliff.

She was the one thing keeping him from leaping off, and that scared the living _shit_ out of her.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were wary of her- still- and she couldn't exactly _blame_ them. Had she not known her goals, she would have been suspicious too.

 _Knowing_ what she knew, she was mistrustful.

 _If you breathe, and pay attention, things will work themselves out,_ she reminded herself. _One step at a time. Slow down. Build up your relationships, before you try anything else._

_Slowly does it._

* * *

There were many things they hadn't known about her.

Only now, watching, did Sideswipe see exactly how much of what she had projected was a front; he'd suspected the darkness but not imagined that it had been so… pervading.

He had thought her flamboyant, in many perspectives. She had rocked their world and torn their assumptions to shreds- didn't that require some sort of aura of ostentatiousness?

 _Apparently, no,_ he thought, now, sitting with her on the roof of their hangar.

He hadn't imagined that she would be so intensely private. From anger to hurt to irritation, she rarely showed those emotions- but that didn't mean she didn't _feel_ them. That was a… strange idea.

Then there was her relationship to Prime.

 _That_ was fraught with emotional trauma, on all three sides of this equation. From what little Sideswipe could tell, she disliked Prime on principle, Megatron hated him on experience, and Prime was beyond wary of the two of them. The situation had cooled down, though, from outright hostility to cooler reactions, and he suspected that that would be the best he could expect from such… _strong_ personalities.

"I didn't want to do this," she said quietly, letting her hands rise up to swipe over the stars above them. "You know, when this began, I thought I could just go… _back._ Like a fucking _cat."_ She wiped a hand over her face, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse under her breath. "I thought it'd be glamorous and pretty and- and God help me, I'm still that idiotic idealist."

"If you're a leader, I think it's a requisite," he said, trying to soften his tone from caustic to dry.

She flopped backwards, ungainly as he could never be. "Nope. That's just Prime."

Maybe, in another seventy years, he'd have the courage to ask her what she saw in Optimus to make her sound so… disdainful. Right then, he was most assuredly _not_ fool enough to push.

"How did you begin?" He asked, keeping his voice inquiring and not nosy. "With… all this?"

Lines around her eyes crinkled, as if she were amused, though she didn't smile. "I talked. To Megatron. A _lot._ It was… enlightening, in some ways. He wanted to know things about human culture, and I wanted to know things about Cybertronian culture."

"Like what?"

"Like… what you liked to do. Types of dance, or song, or popular hobbies," she elaborated. "It has a way of changing your view of the world, you know, when someone starts asking you _why_ you play basketball with a large ball and tennis with a tiny one; _why_ food's tend to be colored green and gold and red but never, ever purple; _why_ humans smile when they're happy and it's the exact same emotion- with the same movement- in an alien race that had never interacted with us…"

 _Oh, yes,_ Sideswipe thought. He could definitely understand what she meant. He'd been a visitor on hundreds- if not thousands- of alien planets. Every facet of his home had been dissected and prodded, and there had been some part of him that had hated it deeply.

But even in the shallow tides of their conversation, the truth shone- an unmistakable beacon. It died the water red; it flooded over his pedes as if he hadn't noticed it already.

"You don't trust him."

She met his gaze, and he thought there was a flash of amusement, deep within that level stare. "Not… completely." A smile that was no little amused. "His goals and mine converge, for now. I can trust him for that. When they don't…"

She would be ready for the knife in the back.

_Is it betrayal, if you are expecting it?_

She sighed, and said, quietly, "I trusted him, at first, you know. I… there was a part of me that saw the horrors he'd gone through and thought it was- _romantic._ That I'd help him out and reveal myself and Megatron'd be happy, and we'd all dance off into the sunset like in a fairytale."

"What went wrong?" He asked, just as grave.

"Our first mission." She shrugged helplessly, hands opening wide and innocent. "I'd had him in my head for… maybe two weeks? We'd known each other for that long, at least. And I trusted him, unconditionally."

"I'm sorry," he said, trying not to imagine what Megatron could have done with such absolute trust.

She smiled, then, just a hint wry. "So was I. He said he wanted to go to find his body, see if there was anything there he could scavenge. It was a fool's mission- but I _trusted_ him. So, when my parents decided to go on their annual honeymoon, I begged off and told them I had tests. Then I called the _school_ and told them I was going to be gone for a week."

Sideswipe tipped his head back, and took that thought to its logical conclusion. "Nobody knew where you were."

"Nope," she agreed lightly. "And then we took a road trip to California."

"What's in California?"

"The Mariana Trench." When he didn't nod, she said flatly, "Megatron's body."

… _and that,_ Sideswipe thought, _is how we know she isn't one of us._

Her smile tightened, but he thought he saw sadness in the hard planes of her face. "I had just turned fifteen, my parents were in Europe, and nobody even knew to _look_ for me, much less knew where I was. I didn't know how to drive, so I let Megatron do most of the work, and just sat there and looked around." Her eyes darkened, slightly. "The closer we got to California, the weaker Megatron got. That… was scary."

He winced. If Evelyn admitted to being frightened, now, then that meant it had been truly _bad_ then.

"Once, I was pulled down with him," she went on, voice sharper. "It hurt, in the darkness. It was cold, and heavy, and dark. Then I woke up, and just barely managed to stop our car from driving off the overpass. I was… scared out of my mind. I couldn't walk, or talk, or even fucking _think._ I had no idea where I was, and I didn't know how to drive."

"And where was Megatron?" Sideswipe asked, soft and deadly and vicious, because even if this had already happened Megatron had put his Lord in intentional danger and he was a fragging _Iaconian noble._ They knew how to get revenge, when it mattered.

Her left hand rose, swept over the sky above her as if to cup the stars in her palm. "Silent. Gone. He didn't answer, and I didn't dare get too close to that _hole_ in my mind." She laughed, harsh and brittle, like an avalanche of beautiful, deadly snow. "Most people learn to drive from their parents. I learned on an empty highway at three in the morning, because if I didn't, I'd _die."_

He considered commiseration, but then remembered her first advice to him.

(Get over it… there are more important things than themselves.)

"Don't we all deal in death?" Callous, perhaps, to expect surety from a child. More than a little cruel. But even if it was, war had inured him to the subtleties of morality a long time ago. A line in the sand, and nothing more. "Failure is no longer disappointment… but more. It's the world you're now part of, Evelyn."

Her skin was colored silver against the silk of the night sky. She looked small, on the shadowed roof, Evelyn looked _young._

Then her back straightened, and he could see the steel in her eyes.

"No," she agreed grimly, voice unbending as Prime's. "It is not a nice world, Sideswipe. And… and I cannot dance where there are shards."

Her eyes bored into his, flattened silver coins instead of shifting brown. "I cannot fail. Not because of what it means to you, or Jazz, or even Megatron. Not for myself, either."

Sideswipe didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe.

"Because I am your last hope." She shifted, sinuous as a twisting snake, and continued before he could get over his first reaction of deafening rage. "Because there is a darkness coming, and all we can do is hold the light _within ourselves."_

He struggled not to show his anger, then decided it didn't matter. "A dark- what the _hell_ are yo-"

Her tone hardened, turning cold and clear and frozen- a thing of polished flawlessness. "The war is over. Megatron will not fight, the Autobots have won. The Decepticons will be repatriated, as under Prime's orders, and they will _follow him."_

He frowned. "…what's the problem?"

Hadn't that been what they were fighting for? Wouldn't that be the ideal ending?

"All of the reasons for this war will still exist," She declared grandly. "For every selfish person, Sideswipe, there had been two with a reason. With an injustice. With _something against Cybertron._ When your planet fell- the Decepticons _cheered."_

It represented their greatest triumph, and building it out of the ashes into its former glory would forever alienate the 'Cons.

"We can't just sit by, and let them do this," he said quietly.

"No," she said, voice lowering. She sounded almost… defeated. "We can't. I just… tragedies, Megatron, and you. I needed someone to hold, for some time. I used you, like I've done to so many others. And there are too many things between the Autobots and the Decepticons, too much blood and death and gore. Too much, and the only way to bring them together is to build a bridge."

He stared at her.

She smiled crookedly at him. "We're the fucking bridge, Sideswipe."

His spark stopped. Everything stopped. The _world_ stopped.

For such grand revelations, Sideswipe decided, there should be a designated area. A sunlit battlefield, with pounding hearts and vicious blood, perhaps. Maybe a war room, with battle plans and leaders.

Certainly not a darkened roof, a half of a broken pair of warrior refugees, and a girl with too much knowledge and a monster in her head.

"Please tell me this wasn't your idea," he said disbelievingly.

The smile dripped off her face like paint.

"A thin wall between armies," she agreed softly. He couldn't help but notice the determination there. "But it is all we have. All _I_ have. So… you can stand down, Sideswipe. Or you can open your eyes and see what everyone else is too blind to."

"That is blackmail," he said shakily, hands trembling and optics blown wide and legs aching to run away, away, _away_ from her. "You can't-"

He stopped himself there, because the worst part was that she _could._ She _could_ stand there and tell him what she wanted, and it was more of a choice that she was giving him than any other Lord would have given.

She turned, deliberately away from him, and faced the sky.

"How many worlds are out there?" She murmured, voice almost soundless. "How much has been lost to senseless violence in your rampage across the universe?"

He didn't try to hide his reaction to the stinging words.

She went on, voice thinning into a rapier. "Do you know what a greater fool is?"

He paused. "It…"

"It is a person who is the perfect blend of arrogant and confident, who thinks they can succeed where nobody else can." She spun around, lightly, and he could see the fierce smile on her face. "My country was _built_ by greater fools, Sideswipe. I am one."

"You're dragging us down with you," he whispered.

Her face softened, the razor-edges of her spine flopping into something calmer. "I'm giving you a choice," she corrected. "You can jump ship now, Sides, if you want. I will _never_ hold it against you. But if you stay… I'll expect you to be onboard."

He hated Decepticons. His life had been simple, hewn in black and white and maybe, sometimes, sepia. He'd been content with that.

He thought he could learn to hate Evelyn Monroe, for her arrogance.

"I can't fragging _do it,"_ he hissed at her.

She jumped, and he was inordinately pleased at her reaction.

"Do what?" She asked warily.

"Kill them!" He snarled. Her eyes widened, flashing blue for an instant, before she turned away and bent over. It took him a minute to understand that her shaking shoulders were out of laughter, and not tears. "I'm serious."

She turned back, and he could see what she would have looked like as a child, before this had happened. Pretty enough, he thought, by earth-standards. Average, all told.

She was not so pretty now. The innocence had been wiped from her eyes, under Megatron's heartless hands. She was no child, not when she toyed with forces that could choke the very vibrancy out of the universe. Not a child- and not an adult. The beauty had been hardened and softened at the same time.

He wondered what she would have been like before Megatron.

A pale shadow, he decided, walking the threads of fate, and forever in the shadow of a greater destiny that _could have been._

The past year had toughened her, from iron to steel; she walked the path, now, of a leader of mechs and men. Events had conspired, had left her no choice, but in the end it was one so few ever walked. It was one Megatron had feared to tread, and one Sideswipe had never considered.

"In so many ways," he said quietly, "you are like Prime."

She bared her teeth back, mood switching from incredulous to outraged in an instant.

"I am _nothing_ like Prime," she said, voice trembling with barely-leashed indignance.

He grinned down at her, and made sure she saw the blood-lust in that one movement. He wanted her to know that she held a wolf by the jaws, and she could not let it go nor hold on for much longer. Her leashes were only so strong.

Her eyes stared back, smooth and unreadable. "I am _not."_

"Are we kids, now?" He asked her amusedly, "to debate in yeses and nos?"

She sighed, and the tension faded from her shoulders.. "I know the world is ending, now."

Now that he was the mature one, he realized wryly.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Anyways, Sunny should be back from the patrol in about a joor, so you can tell him what- What is it?"

She was frowning, grooves carving into her forehead with disturbing ease, in such a young face. Then her face whitened alarmingly, and she gripped his leg tightly.

Lifting it to meet his gaze, she managed, "Sunstreaker doesn't normally have a patrol today, does he?"

"No," he said easily. "But it's nothing to worry about. The patrols change a lot, based on how mechs're feeling, and probably Sunny just… what _is it?_ You're-"

"Sunstreaker has not irritated anyone," she said clearly, eyes hooded. "He has barely spoken to _anyone,_ Sideswipe, in the past two weeks. No… and it wasn't changed on the normal schedule, so…"

She spun around and met his optics, sudden, horrified realization filling them. "How likely is it that an Autobot has turned traitor?"

"…why?" He asked slowly, hating where she was going- what the _hell-_

"The roster wasn't changed on the public postings," she said impatiently. "Only on your private ones, and whoever Sunstreaker's- oh, God." Her tone turned sharp, swinging. "Tell me he had a partner."

"Yeah," he said, digging up the file. "Hound. Why?"

"Because I'm looking at the security footage from seven minutes ago, of the Rec Room," she said grimly. "And Hound's in there, laughing his head off."

"…Sunstreaker's _alone?"_ He asked numbly.

_::Sun-::_

It broke off, the signal too far for even a twin bond to reach.

"I can't reach him," he announced.

She tilted her head, in the barest hint of a nod, and stiffened. Her voice grew clipped, all emotion fading in favor of taking care of the problem.

"Go talk to Jazz," she ordered. "We need to find out if there was anything out there that's been on the down low for the past… couple weeks? That sounds good, right?"

He nodded and leapt down the roof.

When he looked back, she was gone.

* * *

 _God, why does this happen to_ me?

_::Megatron?::_

_::Yes, dear?::_

She pushed away any amusement. _::Start looking at the logs. If there's any chance we can catch them before they've altered the footage, it's there. And even if we can't for_ that, _we can narrow down who it was.::_

 _::Yeah::_ he mumbled. _::It's kinda sad how… unprotected the files are once you're inside the Autobot base. Maybe I should tell Red Alert.::_

 _::Tell him and you'll receive a blow to the head in response::_ she said flatly. _::And seeing as it's_ my _head, I'm going to ask you to avoid that thought until you've got your own body.::_

He faded further from her mind, sinking into himself and finishing the process of downloading the files remotely. She waited, pacing the asphalt of the base's parking lot angrily- mainly to avoid the sense of horror waiting just beyond the next revelation. She could feel that _in her bones._

 _::Has he irritated someone?::_ She burst out, suddenly, impatience taking over. She needed to _do_ something, and for perhaps the first time could understand the obsession with action some warriors had. It was infinitely easier to be in the thick of battle, because even in the depths of panic and worry, there was the secure knowledge that it was _you_ against _them._

Sitting like this, hidden away, was nerve-wracking.

_::Megatron?::_

_::Even if he had::_ he replied finally, scathingly, _::no proper Autobot wou-::_

 _::Don't.::_ The wash of tiredness was unexpected but not unwelcome. She sounded exhausted, and she _was. ::Do not underestimate them. I told you, failure is no longer a feasible option. This is_ not _an experiment, and even if it was our control doesn't exist and there_ is no fucking hypothesis!::

He hissed something, then sighed and said grudgingly, _::He hasn't offended anyone in the past two weeks, if his interactions with the other denicens of this base are to be taken into consideration.::_

She frowned, letting her instincts run over that. _::What about… hurting people? By… ignorance, I suppose, if not deliberation?::_

 _::The only victim who might yet hold a grudge is…_ Hound.:: He spat that last word as if it could lessen his rage. _::How_ dare-::

She was strongly tempted to run after Hound, to drag him to Prime and bring the fucker _to his knees._ Sunstreaker was _hers,_ and she would damn every person who tried to take him from her three times to Dante's hell and seven to her own.

The possessiveness was instinctual- was driven into her with bonds and loyalty and Megatron himself. She was their _Lord,_ and any hurt they came to under her was supposed to be either met with retribution or silenced with wereguild.

So, she had two choices: go after Sunstreaker, or go after Hound.

It didn't even take a heartbeat.

As they rode over the desert in a hot-wired car, Evelyn sank back into conversation with Megatron.

And while Megatron was brilliant, with a mind that could make leaps of native intelligence- rather than experience- Evelyn was a genius at reading people.

If she had a superpower, that would be it, she thought. Reading people and deducing who they were- what they were like.

And Hound, whatever else his issues, had never struck her as vengeful.

 _::I… don't think that… it was Hound::_ she said quietly, breaking the tense silence. _::It is not… his nature.::_

 _::It_ is _his nature if pushed, Evelyn::_ Megatron shot back immediately. _::Never underestimate-::_

 _::I'm not::_ she murmured. The worry and anger still roiled through her, a tempest waiting to be unleashed. She had never felt such rage before- and that _terrified_ her. The mild words were a way of countering the growing tide. _::But Hound would not. Why-::_ she broke off, as stark dread clutched at her heart and a revelation flowed through her.

 _::Not so much a dead end::_ she whispered, angrily. _::Not a silence, because he would not defend himself if that were the case. But it is always-_ always- _easier to fight for others than for yourselves.::_

 _::No::_ he said flatly. _::You cannot mean-::_

She dropped her head into her hands and growled in frustration, pressing the pedal flat to the floor. It had suddenly gotten utterly important, their warning.

 _::That Hound has_ one friend _out of all of the mechs on base who could have done this- without any questions asked?::_ She asked grimly. _::That_ Wheeljack _might be that mech? Oh, yes, Megatron. That is_ exactly _what I'm saying.::_

He fell silent, but it was not the silence of anger or even shock- rather, she thought, the silence of someone thinking very hard.

 _::We must warn him::_ he said finally. She resisted the urge to point out that they were already doing so. _::And, Evelyn?::_

_::Yes?::_

_::The tapes have been edited.::_

Another strike against Wheeljack. There were relatively few mechs who could have achieved this in silence, and for better or for worse, she trusted their officers.

Which meant there were perhaps two mechs who could have achieved the entire rigmarole without being caught: Wheeljack, or Perceptor. Both worked on the security systems; both were never questioned.

 _::And what about Bluestreak?::_ She asked slowly, knowing the meager barriers against her rage were no longer going to be enough. _::Didn't you say you'd held him?::_

Megatron froze, and remained silent for a long time. She bit back her furious recriminations and instead watched the sand dunes flit by at the fastest speed the car could go.

 _::…yes::_ he said finally, a wealth of regret in that voice. _::Starscream got to him.::_

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until the knuckles were white and she thought the ridges of the leather would forever be imprinted there.

 _::We're going to get him::_ she said, fierce and strong and so damn _certain._

He didn't contradict her.

* * *

They were too late.

Sunstreaker already had his weapons hot; the 'Cons were speeding in for the kill. There was no way he'd win this fight, and he was dead before he'd begun.

 _I am so, so sorry, Sunstreaker. Please…_ forgive me.

She screamed.

It was loud, and sharp, and all-encompassing. The fear she'd felt from before and the rage from Wheeljack's deception… she couldn't control this. This was no longer a chess game…

_Breathe, Evelyn._

The scream cut off, leaving them all in a preternatural silence. She looked up, through wet lashes, directly at Sunstreaker.

Then she clenched her jaw, and spun to meet Starscream's darkly amused glare.

_Game. On._

* * *

 


	10. All the World a Stage

She blinked, deliberately, and felt all the warmth in her shoulders drip away into the dust at their feet.

The anger fell with it, along with her possessiveness. All that was left was dread and icy, icy despair.

She swallowed, hard. _::You know how I said we'd have some more time before sketching our personality profiles for the 'Cons?::_

_::Yes.::_

_::Procrastinators never win, do they?::_

"Who are you?" Starscream _purred-_ the rough edges of his voice smoothened with the headiness of triumph. Turning to Sunstreaker, he tilted his head menacingly. "Who is she?"

Sunstreaker stepped forward, half-protectively. She shot him a _look,_ hidden under a violent tremble, and stopped him cold.

"An earthling?" Sunstreaker asked, disinterestedly, guns flashing cold. He would not fight when she could be a casualty. A careless shrug. "She does not matter."

"She knows about us, though," Starscream said shrewdly, and Evelyn _hated_ the gleam of intelligence in his optics. Starscream was the second in command. He was supposed to be _loyal._ He should be _mourning_ and _broken_ and-

- _::If you don't calm down, Megatron, I'm going to die.::_

He retreated, curled into a ball. She turned aside, let her eyes widen and face pale.

"W-why did you bring me here?" Her voice was small, and she felt her shoulders sink an inch further down, playing on the terror she actually felt. She was no threat, only an asset. Information, with no risk. "I… I don't-"

Starscream lunged forward, a smooth snap across the dunes- and all she could think was _oh shit that's twenty_ meters _he shouldn't-_

_Breathe, Evelyn._

She had to show every inkling of mind-numbing terror.

Emphasis on the _mind-numbing._ She had to appear terrified while still retaining the ability to think. Her every drop of acting dribbled down to _this action,_ and she was petrified beyond all comprehension.

_You cannot do this._

His clawed hands closed around her torso, heavy and bruising. For all that she had despised the Autobots and _told_ them that, they had not inflicted pain purposely.

Starscream would.

"Who brought you here?" He asked, voice low and deadly and vicious.

She pressed herself back, against the icy metal of his palm, and tried to ignore the knowledge that all it would take was a single movement and she'd be crushed.

"I… got a message," she whimpered, feeling tears run down her face. "From _Wheeljack."_

A desperate gamble for desperate times. She didn't know if it actually was Wheeljack who was the traitor- but she needed to give information. She needed to prove her worth.

And if she were wrong-

_Don't think about that. Just keep moving, from dust to darkness to light._

His bloodied optics narrowed into slits of crimson hatred. She didn't have to fake the shudder working out of her bones.

Then his lips twisted into a grotesque approximation of a smirk. "How does it feel," he asked, nastily amused, "to know that you were betrayed by one of your own?"

She kept her silence, knowing the tension had just risen to a higher notch.

Sunstreaker hissed, " _Let her go."_

"Why?" Starscream asked. "What would you give me for her?"

 _No,_ she thought, something too close to betrayal lurking in her heart. Sunstreaker was honorable. He would do what a true Oathsworn should, and disavow himself. She would again be abandoned. _I can't do this._

She did not control Sunstreaker. She _did_ control herself. And…

Megatron was still on her side.

 _::Megatron?::_ She whispered, eyes locked on Sunstreaker's vacillating frame.

 _::Evelyn.::_ He was there. She could do this. It was not impossible.

She made sure her eyes focused on Sunstreaker's. She could identify, she thought, every last shade of blue in those beautiful optics.

_::Cut the bonds.::_

Her heart shattered under the newly made pressure. But even in the depths of her self-loathing, she could see the aghast- _broken-_ look in Sunstreaker's optics. He held his silence, in the rotted depths of her absolute betrayal. He was still _loyal,_ when she had utterly deceived him.

"I don't know him," she whispered.

And Starscream _smiled._ There was madness in that rictus, a crazed sort of hysteria that she might have called amusement.

No. He was too far gone, too deeply traversed in madness to be _amused._ Even if she was soon going to join him there.

"Take them both," he ordered to his men.

Sunstreaker's screams would be forever carved into the landscape of her heart.

_Who is the unforgivable one now, Evelyn?_

* * *

"I don't know him."

_I don't know him. I don't know him. I don't know him._

It was her mantra, a litany of her crimes and every last one of her failures, borne in unadulterated rage and _so much pain._ Megatron helped her, sometimes, silencing her tongue when she was about to say something unwise- but mostly he left her alone, to shrink away from the _overwhelming_ despair that would soon rip everything to shreds.

Starscream asked her, had continued to ask her since they had left the desert.

She had answered the first few questions; they were the ones the Decepticons _knew_ she knew, and pretending otherwise suggested that she wasn't as far gone into hysterical terror as she appeared.

Then the questions had turned to _herself,_ and she had shut down.

Not just not answered, but not reacted. First, last, and always- she didn't move at their threats. Threats- first to her body, then to Sunstreaker.

They hadn't gotten a response.

She thought there was a hint of disappointment then, but Sunstreaker had provided more than enough entertainment in that sense.

And, in their haste, they had underestimated her skills. Leaving the door unguarded- all they had were a few drones- was _beyond_ irresponsible. It dove straight into the area of utter failure.

A makeshift sword, taken from a swiftly defeated drone, was simple enough to wield and a good weapon for Megatron to use when this small. He had been thrown off balance, at the sudden arrival of his old… _minions,_ and couldn't be relied upon to be the support she sorely needed- a basic weapon was the best tool for him to use right then.

The base schematics were similar to what he remembered, but those were hidden behind a veil of anger and hurt. He was still affected by his imprisonment in his own body; she couldn't blame him for his inability to retain control. That would have been hypocritical.

She just wished she wasn't so aware of her mortality- her weakness. She had shored them up, she'd thought, when she had bonded with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Only now, she was too cognizant that bonds went both ways. She had come to care for them as much as they cared for her, and that feeling was not a natural one.

It burned.

Rounding a corner, she stilled, cursing hopelessly in her mind.

Soundwave stood there, at the end of the hallway, arms folded and looming murderously over her.

_Remember, Evelyn. He is not…_

Hope dawned, a sunrise that painted her mind in shades of glorious gold.

 _::Megatron!::_ She called, desperation clipping her voice. They had moments before they'd be noticed, and less to formulate a plan. _::You said you were hated.::_

 _::…yes::_ he admitted, slowly.

She grinned nastily at him. _::Except_ Soundwave _has always been loyal. I don't care- reveal yourself._ Convince him. _Use that silver tongue of yours for some good instead of leaving all the work to_ me. _::_

He was wary. Unhappy. But he was the one who had taught her to use people, and she would not let him forget his abilities when they actually mattered, even if she knew she was being unfair. This was… necessary.

_::Step back.::_

She did, a deliberate one to the back of her mind. It was dizzying, in a sense, and painful, too. Megatron was not a gentle mech- was raised and born in fire and ice and _kill or be killed._ He had an effect on her mind that could not be measured.

 _Ice, to diamond,_ she thought, ruthlessly suppressing the physical pain. _Iron to steel. I am nobody's weapon, but he wants me to be one. I am not his._

Sometimes, she had to remind herself that over and _over_ again. Megatron was not her, and she was not Megatron- or Megatron's. It was hard, when one had sixteen years of experience, against Megatron's _thousands._ He would probably never understand how hard it had been for her to draw the boundaries between him and her.

It was why she was so compulsively obsessed about retaining control.

"Soundwave," Megatron spoke, out of her mouth. His voice was regal, commanding. Absolutely, utterly in control. With one word, he established the dominant party. "How are you, old friend?"

She grimaced, sour vinegar sliding around her mind. Not the best way to start the conversation.

"You… escaped," he announced, calm and flat.

She felt a surge of _worry-hate-fear._ Then it was tamped down and under Megatron's control. "Did you think a puny cage could hold _me?"_

"Who are you?"

Thank goodness Soundwave was smart, she thought. He was good enough to realize that this was _not_ normal behavior for prisoners. Now, all Megatron had to do was ensure that he didn't sound like a complete _lunatic-_ and maybe…

Hope was building on the horizon.

"Vorns ago, there was a battle on Polaris' beta star," he said finally. Soundwave stiffened, minutely. "And a femme was… injured."

"She is dead," Soundwave announced, and there was death in those scarlet optics. "Megatron himself-"

"-saved her. Because you asked. Because you knelt on bended knee and _swore_ that you would be his." Her mouth went dry at the implications. Another Lord- _no._ He had already said he wasn't one. So why… Megatron took no heed of her confusion. "You aim a cannon at me, Soundwave, and I'll call you Forsworn."

"You are not Megatron."

He bared his teeth- _her_ teeth. "Want me to prove it?"

He inclined his head, just a touch. Evelyn could see the way Soundwave palmed a gun longer than she was tall, and felt her heart rate increase exponentially.

"Seventy vorns ago, you told me I was a fool for putting Starscream as my second in command," Megatron said carefully. He'd seen the gun, too. "You've told me that I was a fool and an idiot and deserve to rot in Unicron's lair. I found you in Vos, and you couldn't hear yourself think because you couldn't control your powers." He sounded strong, fierce… and knowledgeable. This was the only truth, he claimed, and Soundwave would fall before his indomitable will. "You-"

"How is this possible?" Soundwave asked evenly, gun subspaced. "How did you get inside an _earthling femme?"_

The revulsion there spoke wonders for his opinion on humans, she thought.

"I was… defeated. By Prime, and the Autobots. I needed help, and there was a sympathetic soul around. Hers was the closest."

"You… are Megatron." The incredulity ran under his normal, emotionless tone. "Is the girl dead?"

"No," Megatron said ruefully. "She's too strong here. This is her body, and for all my power…" He shrugged, light and loose and fluid. Evelyn felt the way he twitched mentally, at the lack of weight around his shoulders. He wasn't used to being in control of her body- and it showed. "I'm not strong enough to overwhelm her."

_Just yet._

Soundwave nodded, then, once- sharp and decisive. "Let's go."

_Wait. What?_

_::Stop!::_

But Megatron only moved forward, and was about to ignore her. She snarled angrily, mental defenses locking around him. He had pushed and she pushed back, now. Power was not only Megatron's.

She had a few aces still up her sleeve.

She had more than a few secrets hidden away.

 _::We are not going anywhere::_ she said, low and rolling and deadly. _::We need to get Sunstreaker.::_

He sighed. _::There's no way that is happening, Evelyn. We can't do it- hell, the other Autobots would say the same. Walk out and they'll extract him later.::_

It was so very tempting, to walk away right then. Sunstreaker was in the bowels of a place she was utterly _terrified_ of, and it wasn't like she was any hero, to try to save him.

 _But you_ are _his Lord._

And, damn it, that was why she hesitated.

 _::He would have protected me::_ she said firmly.

He growled, in half-frustration and half-tiredness. _::You've never given him the chance! You'll never know!::_

 _::Then I owe it to myself to find out, don't I?::_ Her voice was intentionally mild. _::He deserves the chance. And… it is_ my _duty, to protect him. Don't pretend that your vows were only meant for circumstances that didn't require some sacrifices.::_

She wasn't above emotional blackmail, after all, to get what she wanted.

 _::I can walk us out of here::_ he said furiously. _::And you will have no choice-::_

Her heart thudded against her chest- that muscle was still under her control. _::You can try.::_

_::What is that sup-::_

His voice cut off when she shifted, bringing every last inch of her mind to bear. A slicing move shored up defenses that she'd grown- and consciously hidden- from him. Within the space of a moment, she had blocked his access to her limbs and all her senses.

 _She_ couldn't access them, either, beyond a vague sense of feeling and hearing, but that didn't matter. She wasn't actually acting on her impulses right then- she was _threatening._

She let go of that numbness, and slid to the backseat- watched him reel in shock. It was dizzying, she knew, and more than a little painful. The sudden influx of color and light and touch after a moment of absolute silence and all-encompassing peace was… jarring.

 _::We_ will _get Sunstreaker::_ she told him, and it was both warning and threat.

There was a long pause, and he whispered, _::Another line in the sand, Evelyn?::_

She smiled, wryly, refusing to show her relief when he gave - better than anyone- knew how hard it was for Megatron to depend on others. Hopefully… _::There are a lot of them.::_

_::Fine. We'll get him. If things go south, though-::_

_::I know my priorities.::_

Aloud, she spun to Soundwave. "We can't leave."

"…why not?" About as confused as he ever got, she thought. "The-"

"There are… circumstances you are not aware of." She knew her voice was harsh, but there was only so much control she possessed. "But we need to rescue Sunstreaker. It is of absolute import."

"The _Autobot?"_ He asked flatly. She nodded, and he shook his head. "Impossible. Probability of getting out alive reduces from ninety eight percent to forty for just _trying-"_

"Would your answer change if I said I am his Lord?" She asked quietly- and if that was calm but immoveable, then it was only Soundwave who heard it. "And I cannot leave him."

He sent her a glare. "The Autobots will negotiate for his return, and if it comes to it they will invade-"

She shook her head, but retained the cool surety she had begun the conversation with. "You don't understand. He swore to me in front of them. His loyalty is _mine,_ and just because he still has an Autobot symbol doesn't mean he is one. If I walk away… there is no one who will come back."

Because Sideswipe would be stopped, and so would anyone else. And if it was terrifying, knowing that she was Sunstreaker's last hope… so be it.

She had never been one to walk away from adversity.

"We go, and save Sunstreaker. Or we don't go at all."

And Soundwave studied her for a moment. Her heart dropped to her knees when he shook his head- slowly- but all he said was, "You are a fool."

She smiled, instead of shivered. "Fools and chess masters, indeed. Can we get out of here?"

"Yes." A wry smile. "Never thought I'd go down against my own."

Her smile grew wider. "When the fall is all that's left, it matters a great deal. But… we won't have to worry about that." At his uncomprehending look, she told him, "remind me to show you _Lion in Winter_ later. It's a good movie." She sighed. "You don't have to worry about me, Soundwave. Take care of getting Sunstreaker out. I'll… cover you."

She wasn't a hero, wasn't a good guy. But she liked Sunstreaker, and trusted Sideswipe, and could talk to Jazz. Evelyn had a family, built out of the ashes of her old one. And if there was one thing she had always- _always-_ done, it was to protect her family.

"Let's go."

* * *

She needed Megatron to help her wholeheartedly for this to work, and that dependence left an acidic burn inside of her. She _hated_ being unable to do something.

 _::I'm sorry::_ she offered. _::But you know…::_

_::Soundwave is not yours.::_

_::But neither is he yours::_ she said gently. _::He is loyal to you. But not sworn.::_

Megatron sighed. _::We've got to get going.::_

They moved, swiftly.

There wasn't enough _time_ for something this complicated. But Soundwave couldn't clear the hallway and protect both himself and Sunstreaker.

An ace in the hole, in other words.

Soundwave had tossed her a gun- a miniature one for him. As he ran in the middle of the corridor, though, she remained in the shadows. The majority of drones they came across he avoided- but there were only so many he could fell with stealth.

They turned a corner fast, Evelyn remaining a few meters behind him- and he was immediately engaged.

A small part of her- a very, _very_ small part- wanted to help Soundwave and leap in, guns blazing.

But they needed _one_ advantage, in this completely compromised op.

_::We've got to get in there.::_

Megatron shook her head. _::No. What we need is a distraction- and then get Sunstreaker.::_

_::Soundwave-::_

_::-can take care of himself.::_

She sighed, irritably, but didn't deny it. Soundwave was a Decepticon warrior, and more to the point, Megatron's third in command. He was a brilliant warrior and the only thing he was truly in jeopardy of was being overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Eyes narrowing, she swept the bare hallway, desperately, for something to distract with. Something fast and loud and…

…dangerous.

_::Can you tell how far he is from us?::_

_::I think it's enough of a distance. Loud enough, and we could…::_

He nodded, and unsheathed the gun. It held fifteen rounds in it, which meant that each clip counted. Aiming it at the bolts holding the roof of the tunneled hallway together, he grinned savagely.

The base had been built over twenty years ago, by humans. And it wasn't financed by the government, but by a small corporation in the area. Megatron had recognized it the moment they'd entered, mostly because he'd been the one to tell Starscream it could make a viable temporary base.

_Emphasis on the temporary._

It was half-underground, and worse, built in an arch. The stupidest part was that they had even added bolts around the top keystone to keep it in place. And, while that was not the corporation's fault, for not noticing it- it was monumentally _idiotic_ of the Decepticons to let that happen.

Break the keystone, and everything else would fall.

Fifteen shots in the gun.

Two shots broke the bolts affixing the keystone. A third completely shattered it.

And it was at that moment that she realized exactly what that would _mean._ Because she didn't have the physical strength to stand against the air, and if the front was sharp enough, it could honest-to-god cut her in half.

She leapt across the corner, rolling to a halt against the cooling corpse of a drone. The dull explosion that resulted was followed by a concussive wave of the metal under her hands- she was thrown clear across the hall and nearly lost consciousness at that.

The ringing in her head lessened, slightly, when Megatron stepped back; Evelyn took control of her body and was absolutely, utterly, unreservedly, _terrified_.

 _::Distraction, Megatron? A distraction's meant for the_ other team, _you idiot!::_

No response, and that was somehow more frightening than a snarky one. She snarled, low in her throat, and forced herself onto her knees. She was Soundwave's only backup; had been the one to force him into this rescue.

She _would not_ lie there, bleeding out because of one idiotic happening.

She limped into the shadows, dragging the gun with her. The sword had been folded away, as a last-ditch weapon, and while digging into her hip, wasn't too uncomfortable. What she needed was to shoot again, and create another distraction.

To draw Starscream away for a brief moment- and let Soundwave get Sunstreaker out.

She found three more clips for the gun- thank god, the gun he'd given her wasn't specialized- and promptly shoved them into the holster. There was no more running about to give Soundwave backup; he'd already left.

That gave her roughly ten minutes to create a few more distractions, and twenty more to clear a path.

She frowned, thinking that over.

Running down a random hallway seemed like a _really bad idea-_ but it wasn't like she had much of a choice with Megatron woozy and comms down.

Taking careful aim, and trying to remember every last scrap of information Megatron had taught her about shooting, she fired.

The first few only resulted in her flinching from the recoil, the bullets pinging against normal metal. She had never been so glad most Cybertronian weapons had silencers.

But by the time she'd gotten through the rest of that first clip, she had fallen into a sort of routine. And it wasn't as hard as she'd thought, to aim and fire. Had it been moving, definitely. As it was, it wasn't impossible.

This time, she was ready for the tremor and was already running for the next hallway. She could only hope Megatron woke up sometime soon and-

 _::…where the fragging_ hell _are we?::_

"No idea," she panted back, skidding to a halt and taking aim once more. It was random, and chaotic, and more than a little frightening. The anger and tension still coiled inside her; Sunstreaker was still not okay. It would take more than that- but she was getting somewhere calmer, now that Megatron was back. "Needed… distraction. Made one. North Entrance?"

Thankfully, he got what she was asking. _::Turn right next corridor. You'll find… that. Grab-::_

She let him flow into her arms and leg, seamlessly handing over control- and he pulled her onto a second level. This was clearly made for humans, though, and while a part of her wondered what exactly a catwalk was doing in a _Decepticon_ base, she knew that they had used an abandoned human one.

She just hoped they hadn't killed anyone to get it.

Anyhow, the catwalk was nothing more than a rickety barrier; the paint was peeling and in places the rust flaked off like so much dust. It wasn't _safe-_

 _And exactly what part of this has been_ safe?

That was… true. Safety hadn't been a priority for her for a- long time. She kinda wished it had been, but too much had changed. She wasn't a child any longer; Megatron was not a hero, either. Her safety hinged, however paradoxical it might seem, on protecting _her_ Autobots.

They moved as one, now, flowing silently towards the North Entrance. The drones they passed- and wasn't _that_ interesting, how few Decepticons there were?- had all seemed almost… lackadaisical. Infected.

At least taking them out wasn't that hard.

Then she heard heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway, gunfire, and shouts.

 _::They're coming::_ she said quietly, stating the obvious. Both knew it- and more so, both knew that the ammunition they had wasn't enough. If, as predicted, the most dangerous 'Cons were engaging Soundwave, then what they had to do was delay. _::Megatron-::_

A slow thought came, and it was almost too late.

_::They haven't felt the earthquake up close and personal, have they?::_

He hesitated. _::Neither has Soundwave. Sunstreaker might be injured::_ he cautioned.

She nodded. _::But it's our only plan, right?::_

_::We can do this.::_

He braced her shoulders, easier than he would have that morning, and fired, one clean shot.

The shaking was tremendous, probably because she was closer to the actual metal. If it crumpled…

…they couldn't stay.

_::Run!::_

She didn't know who said it. Maybe- probably- later, she'd be terrified of that. Right then, all she wanted was to _make it._

And, somehow, she did. The balustrade twisted moments later, but she was able to slide down the construct easily enough and get off two shots.

Shots that drew their attention to _her_ was a bad thing. But they _needed,_ desperately, a lead- and Evelyn had just managed to shock them for long enough that Soundwave reached a twenty meter gap between them.

("I'll cover you, Soundwave. Don't worry about me.")

Lithe and quick, she tossed out a flashbang and _ran._

The movement was quick; the 'Cons almost missed it.

But it had given them even more of a lead, and she wasn't about to waste it.

* * *

Lunging out of the damned base, she saw Soundwave _waiting._ On the upside, he wasn't fielding enemy fire. On the downside, he _wasn't getting away._

"Move!" She barked, before she whirled back and crushed the small remote Megatron'd constructed in their cell. "Get _back,_ Soundwave!"

The base exploded.

And there was nothing beautiful about it, apart from- maybe- the contrast against the night sky. It _hurt,_ to have blown up mechs and people like that, but it wasn't like she'd had much of a choice, and Megatron hadn't been one to argue against it.

Really, they should have known better than to put _lithium_ in their paint. Turning on sprinklers was not difficult. At all.

She was more surprised that hadn't been discovered yet, but she wasn't going to complain. It had bought her an advantage that had blown up their base, and it was enough of one to distract the Decepticons- hopefully- for long enough that they could properly escape.

She was sprawled over the ground, and _honestly._ If she came out of this with a concussion and no broken limbs, she was considering herself _lucky._

Megatron was the one who dragged her up, hands stinging and welts forming. She was the one who didn't let the tears fall, though, the rough breaths in between gasps and chokes and hopeless recriminations weighting her chest like a thousand metal bells.

"We have to go," she choked out, through that pressure and her own agony.

Soundwave stared for a long, long minute, and then he nodded slowly. She didn't like the look in his optics- too knowing, too _shrewd-_ but didn't care enough to comment.

Evelyn blacked out when she sat in the car- a larger, heavier version than she'd expected from the lean Decepticon- but jerked awake a few hours- in reality, minutes- later.

Sunstreaker lay there, arms shifting from once-gold to dust-orange. She grimaced at that, and then wondered what it said, that she cared more about Sunstreaker's paint than she did about his health.

 _Damn it._ The way his optics fluttered, a vivid almost-purple, told her more about his situation than she wanted to know.

The irony was that it had been his _twin_ who had taught her about the Cybertronian symptoms for Energon-deprivation.

Scooting forward on the seat, she "Is there a safe place nearby?" She asked. Kept her voice low, controlled. Soundwave would soon- if he wasn't already- come apart at the seams, and Sunstreaker needed her to keep calm. She needed to be the strong one, for now. "Soundwave?"

"There is an abandoned army base a hundred miles south of here. That-"

She shook her head. "Too far. Sunstreaker won't make it."

"Then where do you want to go?" He asked, voice coldly even. "The only way to keep him alive is with the Autobots. There is nowhere to hide, no more tricks. He-"

"I did not save him so he could die now," she said quietly, voice dangerously soft. "He is not a fool, and I will not let him fall while I can yet support him. And never think I do not have tricks, _Decepticon._ I am not a fool."

He didn't respond, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Megatron tells me there's an abandoned warehouse five miles from here. It can hide any radiation, and… it's large enough."

Soundwave didn't say anything about all the things that could go wrong: it was too close to the Decepticon base; there was no surety Sunstreaker would make it; the Autobots might be too wary to try to find them.

Evelyn clenched her hands and tightened her jaw and glared. There were a few, uncompromisable things. And she would fight to the ends of the earth for them. Soundwave didn't like it- _fine._

She would blaze her own path.

She turned to Sunstreaker, and swept a hand over his arm, brushed away the dust and dirt carefully. She didn't quite say _I'm sorry-_ but it was a close thing indeed.

When she held his arm, she could feel minute trembles, shakes and twitches he was unconscious of.

Her heart hurt- but she didn't really want to go anywhere. She had caused this, she thought bitterly. She had pushed this on Sunstreaker. They had survived- the question was at what cost, not whether there would be consequences.

The tremors grew, from shakes to a near-seizure, and she almost- _almost-_ drew back. Then she remembered what soothed her, when she was in the worst of the nightmares. Megatron woke her with quiet words that told fairy-tales, or novels, or history. Nothing of importance, but everything of value.

And though her voice shook and her throat ached, she began to whisper-tell tales.

"Once upon a time," she began, "there was a man, and a woman. They were the only things to ever exist in the world, and loved each other as wholly as two beings who had never known another way could love.

"They had three children: the sun and the moon and the earth. The world was beautiful, because she had never known pain, nor anger, nor the most destructive of all forces: hatred." Evelyn felt her breath ease, slightly, under the cadence of the words, and almost cried from sheer relief when Sunstreaker's chassis lifted in a stuttering breath. "And the parents watched their children grow and flourish, and though they wept bitter tears at the onslaught of time they did not fight against it.

"The sun was the first to leave, fiery and burning and desiring for more. The moon soon followed him, her mercurial moods forcing her to a high destination above the earth. But the earth stayed, as steady and unchanging as time itself."

He slipped deeper into sleep, and Evelyn began to cry soundlessly.

* * *

The warehouse had been full of old, broken machines- machines she had counted on. Restructuring them was not terribly difficult, not with Megatron's mind and strength. What mattered was that they took time, and time they did not have.

Soundwave had offered his assistance- but she had promptly told him to go keep watch. This was _her_ prerogative, and she would keep it thus.

And Sunstreaker didn't wake up _once_ during the entire time she was attaching machines to his body. She wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

His optics did meet hers, though, after she had finished, and the delirious smile curving over his face had almost made her keen.

He should not have had to depend on her.

Not today, not yesterday, not _any day._

"You came," he croaked, voice cracking with disuse.

She recoiled, and almost said something- but he wouldn't remember it, and she couldn't quite find it in herself to smile otherwise.

"Sleep."

Even if Sideswipe and Jazz forgave her for this, she didn't know if she could forgive _herself._

_I am so, so sorry._

* * *

The world had faded to the jobs she had to do. Watch Sunstreaker. Talk to him when he needed to. Make sure the machines were keeping him alive.

Thank goodness Megatron had known what they'd done for him when he'd been in Sector Seven. It had taken him some time, but he'd pieced together a probable version of how they'd kept him in cryostasis when his auto-healing mechanisms should have kicked in and healed him at least a _little_.

It wasn't a cure by a long shot.

But it did slow the encroaching death exponentially.

 _::Do you still have the bonds closed off?::_ She asked. Without waiting for a response, she said, _::open them.::_

_They need to come._

She'd cut it off before with a mix of fear and dread because she couldn't afford to let the Decepticons know why she was special. They'd wanted to break her, and she had refused to do so in all the ways they would have wanted. It had been immensely satisfying knowing that.

With bonds open, they still couldn't locate either of them- there was a physical distance barrier- but she _could_ give them information and hope they came before the Decepticons found out.

 _::Do it, Megatron::_ she murmured, beyond exhaustion and, really, any other such emotion. She was operating on the absolute necessities and would recover the rest of her higher-function thinking later.

_::It is done.::_

She knelt next to Sunstreaker, and prayed it wouldn't be too late.

* * *

He'd been with Jazz when the sickening feeling of a blocked bond washed through him. He'd stared with laughably wide optics- at another time he might have joked about it- and they'd immediately contacted Prime with the information.

Prime had nodded almost resignedly; Sideswipe had wanted to defend her but they _had no information._ He couldn't defend Evelyn when all he knew was that Sunstreaker had disappeared and so had Evelyn. At least, that had been everything they knew until Perceptor had isolated a Decepticon signal from the desert.

The looks the others exchanged said everything they didn't dare say aloud.

He and Jazz had exchanged their own looks, full of worry and fear and something far more damaging- _doubt._

Neither honestly thought Evelyn had turned Decepticon- but that was more gut instinct than actual _knowledge._ And he hated that small part that questioned her- but if she _had_ betrayed them all…

He didn't let himself consider it.

The search had been almost given up, when Jazz ran into the conference room. He'd flung a tablet across the table, straight at him, and Sideswipe had caught it automatically.

His breath caught, painfully, at the screen.

Because they were coordinates.

They told Prime, and _raced_ out of the base. All the Autobots headed out, too; while some part of Sideswipe acknowledged it was to protect him and Jazz and was subsequently annoyed, the larger part told him there were better things to focus on.

It was an abandoned, empty warehouse that she had given them- and what the _hell,_ he should have _asked_ Jazz how he'd gotten the information-

Soundwave was there.

The world spiraled in, cold air whistling like a hurricane. He thought there might just be a lack of air in his body, now, and that that kind of betrayal should hurt.

The cannons were powering up. Soundwave had raised his hands, ready to fire-

- _"Don't shoot!"_

The world fell silent- even the very air stilled, as Evelyn ran onto the scene.

She was uncharacteristically disheveled, and her eyes were wide with something he thought could be terror- but she calmed down when she saw that they were staring.

"Don't shoot," she repeated, quieter. Her eyes met Sideswipe's- and dipped away. _Avoiding him._ "There are things you don't know."

Prime stepped forward, would have asked for a proper debrief and Sideswipe didn't think he'd be able to last that long.

"Where's Sunstreaker?" His voice _shook,_ damn it.

She froze, back to him. Then she turned around, and he thought there was a hint of pity on her face.

 _No,_ he thought, half-shocked and half-angry. _She would not dare._

And there was defeat carved into the line of her shoulders, a pain that hung as undefinably elegantly as she'd managed to hide from them. He'd seen that look a thousand times before on a thousand different faces- and he'd always thought that it was the most painful look he could see.

"No," Sideswipe whispered.

She set her jaw and said, clearly, "He's alive."

"We'll go talk to the 'Cons," Ratchet murmured over his shoulder. Sideswipe's spark broke a little bit more. "Sideswipe… they'll give us back his body, I'm _sure_ they will. So-"

Evelyn shifted, then, and he thought there was a hint of her signature, indomitable flame, before it was dampened once more into cold resolve by the shifting dunes.

"He's alive," she said quietly.

He looked at her hopelessly. "Not for long. If the 'Cons have him-"

She inhaled, sharply, and touched Soundwave, light on the foot, when he stepped forward angrily. There were furious, roiling emotions in the clearing- disappointment and hurt and anger- and Evelyn was going to be the focus…

"He's alive," she repeated, almost helpless. "And he's in there." Her thumb jerked at the warehouse she'd leapt out of.

_What._

The wind was the only thing howling- all he could see was Evelyn, standing in the middle of the clearing and standing _tall._

"What?" Ratchet croaked.

"Sunstreaker is alive," she repeated, with a small little broken smile on her face. "He's injured and hurt, but not too close to death. If you'd come in another couple days, though…" The smile turned into a grimace, then erased into blankness. That _hurt. "_ Go ahead and scan him but don't touch him. The machines…"

"What machines?" Ironhide asked sharply.

She blinked slowly; that told him more than anything her state of mind.

"I had to keep him alive." She shrugged, artfully careless. "That was how."

Ratchet stalked out, and Prowl growled something under his breath as the medic passed Soundwave.

It was only then that Sideswipe realized exactly how many guns were still pointed at Evelyn and the 'Con. Then he realized _Prime_ was one of those gun-wielders, and shot a panicked look at Jazz. The situation was rapidly escalating; while he'd normally have left it to Evelyn to break the ice and calm them down, she didn't look like she was in any shape to be doing that- and it wasn't fair of him to ask it of her.

"And what are you doing with a Decepticon?" Prime rumbled.

Her lips twisted into a farce of a smile. "You said the Autobots owed me a debt, _Optimus."_

Saccharine sweet, vicious, and abrasive. He had forgotten over the weeks exactly how frustrating she could be when she felt threatened. And- if what she was saying was _true-_ it didn't bear thinking about.

"I'm asking for your faith," she said.

She _could_ mean that, apparently.

"To trust a ' _Con?"_ Someone spat- it could have been Ironhide or Skids or even Bumblebee.

What mattered was that she almost flinched. It wasn't _quite_ one; she bit back the reaction- but it was close enough that Sideswipe could read it. Which meant that _others_ could read it, and the only time she'd _ever_ been even _close_ to being that unguarded had been with them after her sparring match.

Which begged the question of why she was so _damn_ free _now._

Then he realized that Evelyn might not have had enough control over those reactions, and if that wasn't terrifying, he thought, nothing in all the universe would be.

"He saved my life," she said softly, with a weight behind the words- as if the world spun on that axis. It was dangerous, he considered, to challenge such a statement, so sure it was. "And he was the one who got Sunstreaker out. Question us, but do not threaten. We have not done such evil as to deserve it."

Prime looked ready to hiss in frustration. It was _Ironhide,_ of all of them, to step forward and ask her questions- calmly and even kindly. Evelyn remained tense and curt but not _belligerent,_ per se, so Ironhide probably counted it as a win.

He did notice Soundwave being dragged away, through the fine haze surrounding him. Evelyn watched it unhappily- though not protesting. And she turned away without looking at him to finish her debriefing.

The world fractured, then, and Sideswipe didn't really know how the time passed. He watched Ratchet for some time, but it hurt to see Sunstreaker so still and silent, with so many machines beeping around him. Evelyn walked in a few moments later, looking tired, and explained in a curt voice exactly what each one did, and how it worked, but neither Perceptor nor Wheeljack had come on the trip, and it was clear Ratchet barely comprehended it.

He was kicked out with her, but Evelyn was immediately accosted by Prowl and Optimus to continue her debriefing. Clearly, he thought, only half-amused, she had run away the first time.

Sideswipe stumbled up a small hill a few minutes' walk away, and buried his head in his hands. He didn't dare admit that his hands shook wildly; weakness wasn't something he had ever faced head-on.

_I came so close…_

To losing his twin. To losing his Lord. To abandoning his ideals for the easier road.

He'd doubted Evelyn in a myriad of ways. Both he and Jazz had- she was not… one of those you immediately _trusted._ She had lied and cheated and… damn _her._

No, damn _him._ Sideswipe _knew_ that any other Autobot would have returned, without Sunstreaker. It was their training- to leave and return as a _team._

Evelyn hadn't. And there was the tiniest part of him that wished that the reason she had fought so hard for Sunstreaker was because of _Sunstreaker,_ and not that if she hadn't the Autobots would have killed her at best.

The world hung in the balance, for that scant few minutes he'd thought she'd sacrificed his brother for herself.

But she hadn't, and he couldn't let go of that thick fog of _self-loathing_ anymore.

* * *

She moved silently through the shrubbery. It had taken her a long time- or so it seemed- to get the details to Prime and Prowl. Even then, they hadn't been satisfied. She had finally responded to their threats with as much viscous, oozing maliciousness as she could muster.

Even that, though, had been an effort to dredge up out of the fog of numbness- she could all but taste the emotions waiting on the other side of that thin veil. The only thing keeping them at bay was Megatron.

Sideswipe was up on a hill- Jazz had joined him- and the two were the ones she wanted to talk to.

Sleep could wait. This couldn't.

"Sideswipe." A slow tilt to him, a tired smile to Jazz. "Jazz. How are you guys?"

"Good enough," Jazz said carefully, looking at her. He was perhaps one of few who would see _her,_ beneath the run-down masks. She valued that. "And you?"

She shrugged instead of answering.

Sideswipe sighed. "You shouldn't've come up here. You-"

"Extenuating circumstances?" She offered dryly.

Jazz huffed a laugh, though worry still sat in his ridge plates. "Ratchet said Sunstreaker'll make it. He'll be fine, too. No lasting damage."

Some part of her that she hadn't even noticed unspooled at that welcome gift, a thread of tension unraveled.

_Finally._

"I did have a reason for this." Evelyn picked at the fraying thread on her sleeve, and tried not to think about how much she felt like an honest-to-god teenager again.

Jazz leaned forward, optics worried. "What was the reason?"

She turned to Sideswipe firmly, leaving her doubts behind. This was the moment, and she'd decided on her path. "I… I came up here to say I'm sorry." She sighed, chewing on her lip, before saying, "if you want me to… avoid him- or you- I'll understand."

He _looked_ at her blankly. "You _blame_ yourself for Sunstreaker?"

"He was… tortured," she replied wearily. At another time, she might fight for him- for both of them. But she was _tired,_ and hurting, and a little bit broken, inside. No plan ever survived first contact with the enemy, after all. "I wasn't. If I'd told Starscream what he wanted to know… I'd bet _anything_ he wouldn't have been hurt as bad."

"You think he'd have wanted you to give him up?" Sideswipe asked, just as soft and deadly as Evelyn had asked Prime. "You think he'd be _okay_ with that? We don't need you to protect us, Evelyn-"

"That's just it." She smiled, bittersweet. "You _do,_ Sideswipe. I'm your Lord, and you're my Sworn, and our bonds go _both ways,_ now. I need your help, yeah. But _you_ need _my_ help, too."

He shook his head, almost violently. "If you'd just left- like _anyone else_ would have- you'd be in better health. I can't _blame_ you for that! Sunstreaker'd have been taken by the 'Cons no matter what way you shake it, and if you hadn't been there he'd likely have gone down in a heroic last stand."

She offered a hesitant smile, remembering cruelty and metal and one broken whisper-

("You came back.")

-"You can't know that."

He looked at her, level and completely honest. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean that you were right, either. Ifs don't make up the real world, and you did more than any other _Autobot_ would have done- and Sunny's been fighting with them for a _long time."_

"You should," she said quietly. "I escaped unharmed. He… did not."

At that, Jazz broke in. He had followed the conversation with steadily rising ridge plates, and this seemed to be the breaking point.

"Are you?" He asked her, utterly serious. When she didn't respond, his optics narrowed, in both suspicion and stark worry. "Evelyn…" His optics widened. " _Are you unharmed?"_

She wavered at that, hand reaching for a reassuring bulk that was suddenly there. Sideswipe had moved, faster than she'd seen, and curled a hand behind her so she didn't fall over.

And she _had_ been strong. Strong enough to last until they'd come; strong enough to last until their suspicion tided over. She'd kept the peace between them all, and out of the disaster that was this incident, the best possible outcome had been created.

For the first time, someone was honestly asking her how she felt- without any preconceived notions. And she didn't have the strength to lie about it.

In the end, it wasn't so much as a falling, as a crumbling.

The tears she'd held back fell, thick and hot and overwhelming. The absolute terror of imprisonment and Starscream and…

She'd been alone. Megatron had abandoned her, Sunstreaker couldn't protect her, and she'd cut the others off.

Evelyn tried so very, _very_ hard not to cry.

But it was happening. Her jaw ached, from the constant clenching. Her head hurt, from a probably concussion. And she felt so _damn safe,_ right then and there.

So she curled up in Sideswipe's palm, and let herself fall into pieces at last.

* * *

Evelyn cried _"I'm sorry,"_ before beginning to sob.

Not the tears he'd seen people cry on entertainment- loud and heavy and dramatic. Evelyn curled up in his hand, and the tears ran down her face in almost complete silence. The only sound she made was when a keen burst out at random times- Jazz flinched every time and Sideswipe was certain he was no better.

Honestly. They were two warriors, aliens to her and hers. She had chosen them, of all the beings, to seek comfort from? They didn't _do_ comfort.

Sideswipe was stroking her hair like she was a slagged _pet._

But she _had_ depended on him, on _both_ of them. It took her some time to fall asleep, though she did in the end, and she looked rather peaceful, curled in his hand and breathing evenly, deeply. Jazz had almost smiled, with a look of fondness in his optics, and Sideswipe passed her over immediately. His CO murmured something about putting her to sleep, and they headed off in separate directions.

He needed to go talk to Ratchet- and see his twin.

Everything was peaceful, in the makeshift hangar, until Sunstreaker began screaming.

It was a hoarse sort of scream, accompanied by twisting movements as if he was still trying to escape torture. His flailing limbs had already hit Ratchet twice, and all the rest of them could do was make sure without physically restraining him- and even _that_ was impossible to achieve with all the delicate machines he was attached to- was sit and stare.

That _hurt,_ even worse than thinking him dead.

"Can't you-" he gestured, helplessly, at Sunstreaker's twitching frame. "Isn't there _something-"_

Ratchet flinched, as if struck, but the tired slump of his shoulders said everything. He _couldn't-_ the sedatives he'd already given Sunstreaker were still there. Any more than that and he was toying the line of overdose. The strangest part was that this wasn't actual pain- but something that could closest be approximated to the human phenomena of _dreaming-_ more to the point, nightmares.

Sunstreaker screamed, again, and Sideswipe turned away, acrid helplessness filling him.

Head turned to the entrance, he was the first to see Evelyn enter the warehouse. She still looked tired- her skin still had an unhealthy pallor to it- but she also appeared recovered from the worst of the ragged edges she had had on the mountain side. A little bit more normal, he thought. A little bit less angry, and a little more… determined.

And she didn't bother with any more than a terse nod to them.

He had no idea if she even saw them.

They all watched, silently, as she stepped closer to Sunstreaker. And she didn't actually reach out to touch him; instead, she stood a few feet away from his prone body, and began to talk. Nothing of depth, nothing of any meaning- but there was an easy rhythm to her words that, even as he watched, relaxed Sunstreaker into a deeper recharge.

She didn't stop, though she did step closer- and, he realized, there was no fear in her eyes. Her words didn't so much as hitch, though she was approaching a mech who could easily crush her- even _accidentally._

He tried to focus on what she was saying, instead of the sheer _relief_ at his twin's rest- but it was hard. Evelyn was telling a… story. Her voice was painstakingly controlled- soft but not too quiet. He thought she was continuing the tale about another world; she spoke of Earth and Moon and Sun as if they were _people,_ and not things.

_As if they were gods._

Her advance to Sunstreaker's side was slow, fastidious. She didn't lean over, and after every step she let him relax before taking the next one. Sideswipe didn't want to know what her ease with Sunstreaker's insanity made her.

Because it wasn't like they'd really dealt with this all that often. Mostly, those captured by either side ended up dead- Sideswipe had seen his share of revenge-killings in Autobot prisons- and if that didn't happen, then they escaped because they weren't too badly injured. Those who were hurt in battle were treated as quickly as possible, or at worst, forced into recharge and stored in a sterile environment.

Sunstreaker _was_ injured, and the only reason he'd gotten out was Soundwave and Evelyn. There was infection setting into some of his wires, and while Ratchet _could_ deal with it, he wasn't the best trained for it.

Sad as it was, it seemed that Evelyn had done a better job of keeping Sunstreaker alive than most anyone else would have been able to.

When she finally touched Sunstreaker's arm- a small touch that he doubted he could even _feel_ \- they all waited with bated breath; no one else had gotten that close. But Sunstreaker only relaxed further, if anything, and Evelyn rubbed his arm quietly, her story falling into silence.

She finally turned around, back sliding down the low bed she'd placed him on and closing her eyes exhaustedly.

"How long were the seizures?" She asked, eyes still closed.

Ratchet hesitated, but answered. "Each one lasted thirty seconds. But the build-up was-"

"Yeah." Eyes opening, she looked at them all, and blinked. "What happened?"

"…you calmed him down," Ironhide said, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Nobody else's been able to, and _you_ could?"

She sighed, looking tireder than even before. Not weary- just worn down, like a rag. "Megatron told me that bonds go both ways for all of you. So… did you think the entire carry-on with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and Jazz before was an _act,_ or were you just too worried about other things to think about it?"

"You mean that you can _hold_ a bond?" Ratchet asked stiffly.

"Yes," she said, voice clipped. "I can."

"What does that mean here?" Sideswipe broke in hastily, feeling the tension rise another notch. "With Sunstreaker?"

Her gaze turned to his, and some undefinable softness there hardened. "Humans have nightmares," she said roughly. "And now… he does, too."

"Impossible. That…" Ratchet trailed off when she turned a completely level look on him. "You're _serious,"_ he whispered raggedly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. And yes, this means he won't recover from the 'Cons as easily, but it isn't that big of a deal. It's not unheard of for humans to go through PTSD or shellshock or whatever the hell you want to call it."

It sounded callous. It _was_ callous. And had Sideswipe simply been listening to her words, he would likely have been offended beyond all belief. But he could see her hands, still touching Sunstreaker, and remembered the way she moved in- efficient and fearless. She was probably still tired, more than likely was suffering injuries- Ratchet hadn't looked her over- and was still being harassed by _all these people._

He sighed, and wrangled both Ironhide and Ratchet out of the medbay. Evelyn had Sunstreaker under control- and the machines had been checked over enough times that even a paranoid Red Alert would have been content. Staying there was a lesson in futility, and his twin didn't need Ratchet, right then. He needed _Evelyn._

As stupid as that sounded.

When he returned, she was slumped over her knees, eyes closed and half-asleep. Sitting next to her, he tried to avoid touching anything.

"When did you figure it out?" He asked.

She lifted her head and sent him a venomous glare through her curtain of hair. "When I started to feel weird after Jazz woke up."

_Slag. That long?_

The harshness lining her mouth softened when she saw his stricken look. "You didn't separate us for long enough that it was a problem. And with you guys- the bond was built, but not that strong. I'm _fine,_ Sideswipe. Honest. I just needed some time after everything, and even if I'm not completely okay with it I will be soon enough. Just focus on Sunny, and the world'll be back to normal."

He quirked a smile. "He'd kick you from here to kingdom come if he heard you call him Sunny."

"Meh." She shrugged, and sent him her own smile- unexpectedly wicked. "He'll have to wake up, first. And I'm pretty good at finding hiding spots."

He laughed, loud and free and sharp. That felt _good,_ after such a long week of searching and fear and doubt. "We should do that. You, me, Sunny, and Jazz. They'll never see us coming."

"They'll _all_ see us coming," she corrected wryly. "And they'll run away screaming at our insanity."

"Nothing is ever as feared as insanity to the insane," he told her solemnly.

They chuckled together, keeping watch over the prone form of brother and Oathsworn, respectively.

Abruptly, he turned to her. "You… you said that Prime still owed you a debt."

She nodded slowly, looking as if she knew it was a trap but she was just curious enough to walk in anyways.

"He didn't… Ratchet patched you up, multiple times," Sideswipe said quietly. Evelyn needed to know this- even if he hated that he was taking away one of her few advantages. One of _their_ advantages, he realized, almost shocked. "That means you owe Prime, Evelyn. Not the other way. Even if you think that his offering was representative of the start of _another_ debt, it was wiped out by Ratchet."

She shook her head, and shifted over the metal ground. "Nope. 'Cause Ratchet's a medic, and he took vows, as one. I can't owe him for my life- because he was acting as a medic at the time. It's like people… like people thanking you for shooting Starscream. You owe him a blood-debt, but you won't pay for it in another's life. It's your _job."_

"He's _Prime's,"_ Sideswipe pointed out.

She flashed him a grin. "But he wasn't acting as Prime's _agent,_ when he… patched me up."

He looked at her uncertainly. "D'you mean-"

"Yes. Or, I think I do." She shrugged easily. "Prime didn't tell Ratchet to take care of me. I looked at the security feeds, later. Ratchet did it because he _wanted_ to. If Prime had _told_ him- then Ratchet would've been acting as his, as an Autobot. As it is, Prime didn't say a thing, and Ratchet did it _all three times_ on his own."

"How," he asked, completely, utterly _flabbergasted,_ "did you manage that?"

Her lips twitched, slightly. "Same way I wrangled vows out of you two."

He waited, and she paused for a beat, and said, completely deadpan, "Lady Luck."

_No, no, and-_

_Frag. I'm slagged, she's…_

"Luck?" He choked out.

She nodded. "Luck."

He leaned back against the bed frame weakly. "You know, Hound started a betting pool of who next you'd get in your little group. Everybody thinks you're this master at manipulating people, and-"

"Heh. Wanna know a secret?" She asked. "If things go your way, and you don't seem surprised, people tend to think you _made_ them go your way. A bit of reverse psychology on the general population's quite… astute, yes?"

"Mmm. And did you use _reverse psychology_ to blow up the Decepticon base?"

"Nope. All I needed for _that_ was to be locked inside a base, with a neat little megalomaniac in my head, and two hours alone. He wanted to do something, so I told him to go crazy with lab experiments. He found out that the 'Cons were using a lithium-based paint, and I then made up an idea to hack into the _human base-_ which, you know, has sprinklers there as a safety thing- and turn them on." She snickered. "They never saw us coming."

He stared. And stared some more. "We use the same paint."

She tilted her head mischievously.

"But-"

"But you don't use that paint to slather the outsides of your hangars. I looked up what started the fire- you know, the one that nearly _killed me?"_ She asked dryly. "And it turns out that it was 'cause a soldier dropped some water on the paint buckets in Wheeljack's lab. Go figure. Apparently I'm still the culprit."

"You didn't tell Prime!" He accused.

She smirked, eyes dancing. "I'd much rather be known as a pyromaniac than an idiot."

_Because only idiots gave away such an advantage._

"That's… terrifying." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait. We use the same paint on _ourselves!"_

Her laughter was softer this time, a little bit more natural. "I was wondering when you'd realize it. But you've got nothing to worry about. Your machine systems actually integrate the paint into your bodies, and turn the lithium inert. It's rather fascinating, actually."

He yawned, deliberately theatrical. "Spare me the science. I'm not _Wheeljack,_ to enjoy it."

He didn't notice how her eyes darkened in a not-quite-menacing manner, but he did see the exhaustion.

"Sleep," he said, softer. "I'll wake you if Sunny needs you."

She smiled.

And she curled over his body in a show of absolute trust he couldn't help but think he didn't deserve.

* * *

 


	11. Paths of Moonlight

They stayed at the warehouse for another two days, by which time Sunstreaker was recovered enough to be transported on an airplane.

Those two days were pure, distilled _hell_ for Sideswipe- and probably worse for Evelyn. She was the only one who could calm Sunstreaker down; the one time Sideswipe had tried had resulted in near-shredded limbs for three mechs and a cranky Evelyn dragged out of yet _another_ attempt at sleep.

But she didn't complain, and after two tries just began to sleep in the same room. She seemed to have a sixth sense, for when Sunstreaker would get the nightmares, and was there _every single time_ to soothe him.

She spent the entire flight back to base mumbling reassurances to a panicked Sunstreaker- his finer calibrations were picking up on the change in air pressure, and _nobody_ wanted to be in the same plane as a mentally unstable warrior. Even then, there were a number of close calls, and when the plane finally landed, Evelyn looked both exhausted and near tears.

It would have been amusing, he thought, if it wasn't so _pathetic._

Sunstreaker should have awakened by now, but Ratchet had decided to continue sedating him so they didn't have to deal with the Energon deprivation and a myriad of other injuries just yet. No one knew the complications that might arise, and this was the best way of controlling for the variables.

He thought Evelyn might just tear Ratchet's head off for that.

They were greeted by Perceptor, Mudflap, and Red Alert at the base- Wheeljack was apparently still inside his lab- and almost immediately, Perceptor was _there,_ studying the machines attached to Sunstreaker with an _intrigued look_ on his face. He was utterly fascinated with Evelyn's modified machinery; mumbling something about a non-electronic life support system, he began to question her about it.

Evelyn took about a minute's worth of interrogation, then promptly dismissed his ideas.

"The metal structure is corroded on the inside and is only working because of the transfer of ions from battery fluid I was able to find," she told him, so flatly Sideswipe was sure it was an insult- even if he didn't understand what she meant. "Had it lasted three more days then the rust would have become radioactive _waste,_ and I'd be left slowly dying of cancer. So- no. Good idea, yes, if you're on the run and it's everything you have." Abruptly, her expression changed, from supercilious to abject fury. Megatron must have said something- "He's still not alright, you absolute _waste of space!_ Get your head out of the clouds and realize that surviving to tomorrow is only good when you can _fight the day after!"_

She stalked off, mumbling things under her breath, and Sideswipe snickered softly. It might have been the first time she'd left since that disastrous attempt to sleep separately, but he also knew that she was not truly _angry,_ just annoyed and frustrated and tired.

And yeah, there were a lot of things they needed to talk about.

Sideswipe suspected that there were things Evelyn regretted; he _knew_ there were things he was sorry for. Sunstreaker had borne the brunt, this time, of all their hubris, but who would it be next time?

Evelyn?

Jazz?

Prime?

_Himself?_

Try as he might, though, he couldn't dredge up the necessary fear for his own body. It kinda hurt, in a sense, that he cared more for Evelyn and others- but that was why they needed to talk.

The air needed to be cleared, for all of them.

So he just smiled, and watched her walk away.

* * *

Wheeljack had a bottle of high grade open on his desk, and drank the thing raw. It burned his throat- _hurt-_ but he couldn't find it in himself to care. The acid pain almost seared away the ache caught in his gut.

He was waiting for his death.

Or, at _best,_ he was waiting for the Decepticons. If they took him, they'd probably be a little lenient. But he knew who was coming for him- Evelyn Monroe had never been shy about who she had in her head. She had told them about the sympathetic souls, and while Wheeljack had still been waiting for the fallout from _that_ revelation, she'd inundated everybody with other secrets.

Hound focused on her manipulation, Prime on _Megatron._ Ironhide saw her as only a threat, Ratchet as an engineering marvel, and the Twins as… he didn't know, and honestly didn't care.

But all Wheeljack could see was a sociopathic individual who _didn't know when to stop._

And she was dragging the rest of them into her madness.

Megatron was insane, and they were sympathetic souls; sympathetic souls meant being _similar._ Meant vibrating on the same frequency in the _metaphysical plane._ Meant that even if she hadn't started out insane, she would be forced into it with _Megatron sharing her head._

Primus, he hated seeing things so clearly.

The rest were blinded by the glare of lights she'd dragged to herself. By the time the glow faded, she'd have guns pointed at all of them and all that would come of it was death.

Could he really be blamed for _acting?_ It wasn't like he hadn't known that she'd run after Sunstreaker. And if the worst came to the worst, she'd at least want to save him. That would probably fray relationships between the two factions. Maybe Sideswipe would have been… hurt.

Hell- maybe all three of them would have died, and he would've been able to enjoy the bitter irony of the 'Cons killing their leader when all the Autobots couldn't.

Ruthlessness wasn't a Decepticon trait alone.

He'd shut himself up in the darkest corner of his lab, after everything was said and done. The absolute failure of his actions had just begun to dawn on him- once the initial flush of victory had faded- when the notice that Sunstreaker had been found- _alive-_ came to base. Perceptor had groaned theatrically, but there was a small smile on his face.

Wheeljack had felt the first stirrings of guilt.

And if it didn't go against everything he'd ever learned- Wheeljack had seen too much death to ever _not_ cherish life- he might have been tempted to commit suicide. His people's code of honor was as unforgiving, in its own way, as any feudal chivalry.

So, he wasn't expecting any mercy. Certainly, he wasn't expecting visitors.

He _really_ didn't expect Evelyn Monroe, all alone.

But she was there, and walked into the room unobtrusively. He didn't know how long she'd been there, but her face was calm and inscrutable; he watched her warily when he finally noticed her.

"Hello," she said evenly.

He remained absolutely still for a moment- in that peculiar manner prey had, when faced with a predator- and then said, quietly, "Hello."

She didn't react.

_Fine. If you want to play it that way…_

"Why are you here?"

No reaction twitched the muscles on her face- she might as well have been dead, for all the movement in them. He thought there were shadows under her eyes; bruises seemed to pepper her skin and bared arms, making her appear even smaller than normal, but above all, there was no hint of satisfaction in her shadowed visage- which made him even more certain that something, somewhere, had gone horrendously wrong.

It seemed that any pretenses towards nonchalance or ignorance would not so much be ignored as treated as nonexistent.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?" He asked, hopelessly. Wheeljack was no prideful warrior, to never bend knee to false Lords. To choose death over dishonor was something others could fight for- but he'd always, _always_ depend on himself. If she asked him to beg, he would.

A flare of something approaching rage ignited in her eyes, then guttered out. "No."

He couldn't even pretend to be surprised.

She went on, voice so emotionless he found himself hoping she would say _something_ so he wouldn't have to just try and pretend to react.

"Megatron wanted to kill you."

_Then… why aren't I dead?_

"There was a very large part of me that wanted to watch you die," she went on contemplatively. "I wanted to see you kneel at my feet- and if that wasn't possible, to know that your death was as painful as you tried to make Sunstreaker's."

He picked up the glass of high grade and stared bitterly into its depth. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand," she said flatly, moving further into the room. "Then I thought planning for death was rather kind of me, because you're not just guilty of _torture-_ but also of choosing someone out of all your comrades to give over, cold-bloodedly, to your _enemy."_

He felt, suddenly, _furious._ "You. Don't. Know. _Anything,"_ he hissed at her. _"_ I _had_ to do something. If I didn't-" And he cut himself off, already knowing he'd said too much.

She ignored him expertly. "Megatron wanted to see you dead. He's always been of the opinion that physical pain's the most painful kind." Slowly, chillingly, she smiled. "I've always thought emotional pain's the way to go if you want to make sure someone _never forgets."_

"Like what?" He asked, taking no notice of the rolling despair under him.

"Bluestreak is alive," she said bluntly, and he felt the world stutter around him.

"W- _what?"_

"Bluestreak is alive, and while I don't know for certain for how _long_ he'll be alive- what with the 'Cons being deprived of a distraction- he was alive when I was in the base."

He held onto sanity by the tips of his fingers. "The base you _blew up."_

Her smile turned nasty. "That one." She tossed something onto his desk, flat brown eyes glittering in something like hatred. "That's everything the 'Cons had on him. Megatron was bored, hacked into their system. He found everything. It's your choice, what you want to do with that." She nodded to the drive. "Read that, burn it, show it to Prime- I don't care. It's _your_ headache, now."

"You could have killed him."

She tipped her head to one side. "He isn't dead, if that's what you're wondering. The area around him wasn't painted. The fires wouldn't have spread that direction either, and it isn't like he'll be affected by a lack of air."

He swallowed, hard. "This is… a blessing."

"Oh, no," she said crookedly, face twisting. "You see, the ugliest of curses are always disguised as blessings. If you die on a suicide mission tomorrow- well. Let's just say I'll never weep on your grave- but I won't stop anybody else from doing it either."

Which, in all honesty, was kinder than anything he might have expected from even _Prime._

He drained the bottle of high grade next to him, and stared at the drive as if it held all the secrets to the universe.

He didn't notice her leave.

* * *

The following days were no less tense for either Sideswipe or Evelyn than before. Yes, she did have her own bed- but Sunstreaker had _issues,_ and the lack of long sleep was driving her slowly, clinically, insane. Sideswipe wasn't about to let either of them out of his sight, which meant that Jazz was the one to play ambassador to the outside world.

It was taking a toll on all of them.

But slowly- yet surely, because Evelyn was _not_ going to let _anyone_ take her family away from her- Sunstreaker got better.

Or, at least, he stopped freaking out so often.

By the end of a week, she'd managed to convince Ratchet that there was nothing he could do for him; all of Sunstreaker's physical damage was fixed within a couple days. All that was left was his mental status- and that was not something any Autobot was qualified to assess.

She knew some of them wondered what made _her_ qualified for it. And the answer was both simple and complex: she was _human._ And of all the six billion people on the planet, she was the only one with the mental connections to both humanity and Cybertron. She was the only one who could understand what Sunstreaker felt.

They moved out of the medbay; Evelyn moved into their quarters after one night of constant exhaustion and interruption. There were only so many things she could handle, and the pity in the Autobot's glances as she walked across the base was _not_ to be borne.

If they never knew how much she was giving up for Sunstreaker… it would still be too much information.

Like, right about now.

It was partially her fault- she acknowledged that. She'd moved too quickly when Sunstreaker wasn't ready; she'd been too caught up in Jazz's report on Prime's thoughts, was still thinking about it- and had approached Sunstreaker's bed too quickly.

But she was _tired._

 _And that should count for_ something, she thought grouchily.

It was reflex on Sunstreaker's part, born from too-long wariness and careful avoidance. Ratchet had done him no favors by advising the others to avoid touching him.

His hand swept up, in a backhand slap that sent her flying across the room.

Megatron twisted and loosened her muscles a split-second before impact; instead of broken and-or cracked ribs, she would have barely a bruise.

Which she was thankful for.

What she _wasn't_ okay with was Megatron dragging her out of the room- he didn't actually get far, but it was the _thought_ that mattered- and Sideswipe literally _tackling_ his twin.

Who was staring at her with the most horrified look in his optics.

_Damn. I really shouldn't have…_

She moved further into the room, momentarily ignoring Megatron. _He_ knew most of the tricks she still had, and was just being _difficult_ about the whole thing.

"Get back, Sideswipe."

Her voice remained cool and commanding. And while a part of her was startled when people _obeyed_ that tone- she was still a _child,_ where it mattered- the larger part was focused on the rapidly-disintegrating Sunstreaker. Who was hunching his shoulders and whose optics were beginning to glow a brilliant white- the very same shade of battle rage.

 _::This is not the time to be taking care of the Autobot, Evelyn::_ Megatron said, but the opposition was more than a little resigned. _::He will not listen to you.::_

It was a battle he was doomed to lose- and he _knew_ it.

 _::I have to try::_ she replied, quiet and soft, but determined as steel in a silk glove. _::There is no one else. Not in all the world- and likely not in all the universe. Who am I to deny Sunstreaker that small amount of relief?::_

_::You are not responsible for his pain.::_

And… that, right there, was why she _hated_ fighting with Megatron. He had an uncanny ability to slice through her defenses to the heart of the problem, and it was often painful- that truth hidden under layers of lies and deception.

 _::But I_ am _responsible for his inability to recover.::_

He sighed. _::You do not owe him anything, Evelyn. That is what I am saying.::_

Because he was in her mind, and she knew Megatron on a level that went beyond all other bonds, and there was the _tiniest_ part of her that wanted to believe him-

-she understood.

She shouldn't help Sunstreaker because she owed him. If she _wanted_ to help him because he was hers, that was a different story. But there was a difference- like the difference between the Mariana Trench and Mt. Everest- between helping him because she was in his debt and because he belonged to her.

Sometimes, the end could only be justified by the means.

Sideswipe was still holding his brother tightly, arms twisted behind Sunstreaker's back in a way that _had_ to be painful. Evelyn let her face soften into a reassuring nod.

"Let him go, Sideswipe."

Sunstreaker shuddered, as if she had placed ice on his spine. Sideswipe didn't move. Jazz remained frozen- and then seemed to realize that Evelyn had a _plan._

"Sides," he said gently, and Sideswipe tilted his head at Jazz, though he didn't loosen his arms, "I think you should listen to Evelyn."

She jerked her head at Jazz- a silent thank you. She would figure out what she would thank him _with_ later.

"I-" He began tightly.

But she had no intention of letting Sideswipe- or Sunstreaker, because this was affecting _him,_ too- continue this farce. She folded her arms, straightened her back, and said, in a voice that was positively _glacial,_ "Let. Him. Go."

Sideswipe dropped the stance instantly, looking like he'd been scalded. Jazz moved to talk to him- and Evelyn turned to meet Sunstreaker's wary gaze.

"You didn't hurt me," she said, after a long pause, considering how to begin this conversation. "Can you _get that,_ Sunstreaker? You didn't hurt me."

He didn't answer at first- she thought he might have shredded the room to bits of metal tatters if she hadn't been there- but then seemed to realize exactle how childish he was being, keeping his silence. He laughed then, a low, rolling laugh that scraped like broken glass or grating bone. "I threw you across the room. I'm fairly certain that counts as _hurting."_

"And yet I don't have any injuries," she said levelly.

 _Look at me, you idiot. Use your_ head, _and not your assumptions. For once-_

"Because of _Megatron._ Not because of me."

Her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile, showing nothing of frustration and everything of his idiocy. She needed to be a little more blunt. "Let me rephrase, then. You _cannot_ hurt me. Not have not- cannot. It is physically impossible for you to do so."

"I _threw you across the room,"_ he snarled furiously. "What part of-"

"You cannot hurt me," she repeated flatly, but this time she knew she couldn't have hidden the small smile at the corner of her lips if she'd wanted to. Time to throw words out of the window- action was the only way to reach him. "Because of _this."_

And the metal walls of the room flickered for a moment- Sideswipe choked- and darkened to a velvety purple. As Sunstreaker stared, she cocked an eyebrow.

"Did you think I'd let you walk into a room like this without proofing it against the most _obvious_ injuries?"

Jazz snorted- as well he should. He'd been the one to fix the photostatic curtains in place. "Apparently it's Perceptor's design. She blackmailed him into testing it out in here and then blackmailed _me_ into setting it up."

"Blackmail's such a… blunt word," she murmured, flipping her hair. "All I did was tell him to make it- he might have drawn the conclusion that I blame him for something, but that's sure not _my_ fault."

Sideswipe muttered something that sounded a lot like, _probably because he's too paranoid and not as insane as us-_ but when she turned to Sunstreaker, there was nothing of amusement in her eyes.

"You won't hurt me, Sunstreaker. You _can't,_ because I know you." She let her surety show in her voice- Sunstreaker was painfully still, watching her movements and looking like nothing more than a stiff breeze would knock him down. That was unnatural, she thought, because Sunstreaker was a warrior, and should never look this… tired. Wary. _Broken._

"You're not broken," she blurted out, impatiently. He stiffened further, looking at her. "You're _not,_ and I won't let you think you are. You're not as strong as before. But that doesn't mean you're broken, and god help me I'll kill you myself if you persist in this _ridiculous_ farce!"

Her eyes had darkened to embers by then- the brown lit up to an almost-black. Sunstreaker nodded hesitantly.

Evelyn flung two knives into one of the wooden seams around the wall, instead of shrieking more of her anger out on the unsuspecting audience.

 _::If I ever come across Starscream, I'll gut him with no regrets::_ she told Megatron grimly.

It was frightening, in a sense, how much she meant that statement. Three months ago, she'd never have agreed to such a thing. Hell- two weeks ago she'd likely have refused to feel that sense of ruthlessness. But now, after everything that had happened…

War had come knocking on her doorstep, and she refused to remain unprepared.

A long, loose exhale. _::I think we should take it easy, yeah?::_

_::One of your more sensible comments.::_

She turned resolutely to Jazz. "How's the deal with Soundwave coming?"

_::You just said take it easy.::_

She ignored him with startling ease.

"They still haven't released him." Jazz grimaced. "They're delaying- and even though they have a good reason…"

She sighed. "Them not trusting him is not a good enough reason, Jazz."

He paused, and said in an absolutely complacent tone, "Of course not."

"Go on."

"They're delaying," he said. "And there really isn't anything we can do about it while Prime holds him in the Autobot brig- and you're still here. I can't make the deals that'd get them on board-"

"I _know,"_ she snapped. When he arched his brow carefully, she scowled and waved him onwards.

"So either you need to get in the game, or Prime'll keep Soundwave hidden away 'til Ragnarok."

She made a face. "Brushing up on your Norse mythology, Jazz?"

He smiled slowly. "Got anything better for me to do?"

"Like getting Soundwave out of the brig?" She tossed back acidly- but it held no real heat, and he knew it. She rolled her eyes. "No. Just get out of here. No reason for all four of us to be locked away like some kind of recluse, yeah?"

Except… neither of them would leave unless they had to, and everybody knew it. Jazz, at least, had orders. Sideswipe had no intention of moving away, and for better or for worse, she couldn't let him. Sunstreaker- while certainly affected by the influx of emotions and _dreams_ of his torture- was not so much traumatized as he was off-balance.

He needed someone to drag him out of _that,_ not coddle him.

"Evelyn-" That was both Jazz and Sideswipe. Sunstreaker had closed his eyes and appeared to be recharging, which said something because she _knew_ he couldn't sleep unless it was absolutely quiet.

"I mean it. Sunny-" she ignored his rumbling growl, which just proved his absolute inability to hold to a cover, as far as she was concerned, "-here won't get better if you hover over him. He needs to get better, yes, but coddling him like this is only assisting him in his delusions."

 _::Might I remind you that for all your precautions, you are still a fifth of their height? Insulting Sunstreaker is probably not the_ best _idea you've had in a long time…::_

 _::Do I look like I care?::_ She asked, poisonously politely.

Aloud- "Jazz, I think it'd be best for you to go talk to Prime. There's something he isn't saying, and I want to know at least something." Meeting his gaze, she let some- not all, but most- of her masks drop away. Revealing _what-_ she didn't know. But she wanted him to know what she was saying, and there needed to be at least a _little_ bit of trust here.

Megatron would say too much. He would say that it was too much faith in someone who had already proven they couldn't be relied upon if push came to shove.

"You're a covert operative. And you know how they work." A blasé shrug, that hid her hesitance expertly. "Go and get me the relevant info, Jazz. Nothing else."

He paused, and his optics widened when the meaning behind her words hit. A blank check like this one… Evelyn was effectively giving him carte blanche to do as he saw fit. If something happened, it would reflect on _him_ as much as her- a loosening of the leash between Lord and Oathsworn that was clearly nothing Megatron would have counseled.

He nodded, slightly unsteadily, and walked out of the door.

She watched him go with not-quite-hidden satisfaction, and turned to Sideswipe.

_One down, one to go._

"You need some air," she said- a kinder way of telling him to calm down. Tackling Sunstreaker hadn't been planned, and while she was _glad_ that he had, it had unbalanced him. Talking to Jazz had helped him a little, in that sense, but he needed some time and more than a few words away from them all to help him get better. "Go. Talk to the others, enjoy life-" a wry quirk of her lips, "-and be a _bachelor,_ for heavens' sake."

"A… bachelor."

It was said with a flat sort of incredulity; Sideswipe was both insulted and amused- which was probably what enabled her to send him outside.

She smiled sweetly, unable to resist. On the one hand, she could remain calm and cool- and on the other, she could tease him. Both would result in the same thing, but only one afforded _her_ some laughter.

And yes, she was selfish like that. A lesser being might call it bitchiness.

Evelyn called it _sanity._

"Yes, Sideswipe, a bachelor. A man who is not in a committed relationship with someone else. Seeing as there aren't any femmes on this base, I thought…" she trailed off, hiding the wicked smile she _knew_ was on her face. He frowned in slight confusion- and she delivered the final, crushing blow with deceptive ease.

"Or maybe I was wrong. I mean, if you're in a relationship with someone like Ironhide, or Ratchet, or-" cue the grin, it wasn't like she could resist any longer with the look of absolute _horror_ on his face, "-even Prime… I'm not judgmental. Being gay isn't a death sentence on earth." A candid shrug. "Or at least, not any longer. You're lucky you didn't land here fifty years ag-"

"What in the name of _Primus_ are you talking about?" He hissed back, finally cutting across her rambling- a bit later than expected.

Still…

"Your orientation," she said innocently, ignoring the slightly choked laugh coming from both inside her head and Sunstreaker next to her. "I mean… _you_ were the one to-"

"I'm going," he snarled, and the very real anger in his tone sent a slice of fear quivering down her back.

_::We'll have to work on those instinctual responses, Evelyn.::_

_::You weren't complaining about them before.::_

_::Before, there was nothing to complain about. If you are now afraid of your own Oathsworn, the world will not be a very safe place for us. At_ any _time.::_

She felt a spike in her rage- and did nothing to temper the feeling. _::I will take care of myself, Megatron, as I always have.::_

And that was truly cruel of her, to deny what he had done. But she was under no illusions that he had protected her because he was protecting _himself_ in that movement, and there was nothing more obvious she could do to make him aware of that fact than by belittling him.

He retreated, banter and rage hardening into an almost-visible shell around his mind.

She sighed, and made a mental note to talk to him later. This was important, and she had proved it already.

Sideswipe had walked out while she talked to Megatron, leaving the room silent.

 _Like a tomb,_ she thought, feeling curdling sadness well up. _As if Sunstreaker is already dead, and they yet wait for him to truly fall._

Sometimes, she honestly hated their arrogance.

"What you feel," she began quietly, knowing he knew that she was no longer joking- Sunstreaker had always been the most observant mech on the base- "is not weakness, Sunstreaker."

Would that it were that easy to convince him.

"I have been through worse," he replied, just as quiet. "And I have not yet felt terror like I have when I recharge. When I do- I have _always_ been without dreams. You call your… aspirations dreams, yes? That is _our_ definition of dream, Evelyn. To see images when asleep is not something we have _ever_ seen. It is… frightening. I am meant to be strong. Brave. _Courageous._ And I cannot, when I cannot even close my _optics!"_

She watched him calmly, letting him run out of the words on his own. "'Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something is more important than that fear.' It's a common saying, Sunstreaker. Here on earth, at least."

"Churchill?" He asked, looking like he was resisting the urge to search for himself.

"Roosevelt," she answered. "But close. And don't avoid the question."

"You haven't asked me one."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're not the only one with nightmares, _Sunny._ You're not experiencing PTSD, you're experiencing _nightmares._ You got that because of our bond, and some characteristics carry over. But if nothing else, think about what we humans go through. We _feel,_ Sunstreaker. So very, very much. Did you think we could avoid our own demons?"

"And what are yours?" He lashed out, the whip scoring along her skin- a scar just as deep and long as hers was to him. "A _child's_ dreams, Evelyn Monroe? What do you fear, in the darkest of nights? What can you possibly have to be afraid of darkness!"

_Point, set, match._

"It is so easy for all of you to forget that I am not just human," she murmured, letting every inch of her rage and grief show- but not acting on it. Not yet, at least. "But I am also Megatron- after a fashion. I met him after months of _nightmares,_ Sunstreaker. He is memories- his very _essence_ is memories. Did you think I could have done this without at least _knowledge?_ And what kind of a _monster_ do you think I am, to see that evil and not feel _anything?"_

"You have Megatron's memories," Sunstreaker whispered, and she wondered if he was actually as horrified as he looked. "You have felt what he felt? You…"

Freak. Devil. _Monster._

Lips thinning, she smirked. It felt like it would fall off her face, but that was okay. "The point is, that I have seen the darkness. That I have _drowned_ in it." Sleep was still something elusive for her, no matter how tired she was. Since arriving at the base, she had not slept for longer than five hours- and that was including sedatives.

If she closed her eyes, at the right moment- at the right time- she would be able to see Bumblebee strapped to a table, a burning metal roof crumpling down on her, a rain-drenched Sunstreaker screaming…

A thousand nightmares for a thousand situations. She had them every night- and nobody had ever noticed. Which only meant that she had managed to avoid looking too tired for that to matter, but…

She held out her hand.

Evelyn had won Jazz's and Sideswipe's confidence with wit and truth, respectively- the things that the two prized the most. She had presented the part of herself most likely to gain their trust instinctively, so it wasn't quite a lie; most people did something like that with various people in their lives- people to bosses versus people with their friends; people talked to their mothers very differently from the way they talked to their spouses.

And none of that would work on _Sunstreaker-_ because he was taciturn by nature, and she suspected that he had a penchant for secrets a mile deep and twice as long- he couldn't return her frankness with a true match, so he would rather remain silent.

It had taken her long and hard to figure out a way to approach him, and in the end it had been an epiphany that had done it for her- Sunstreaker was as similar to her as any mech could be. There were certainly subtle differences, but the basic core of a person was that he was an impassioned survivor who followed two things: an ironclad moral code, and his twin.

He wouldn't respect her for anything else.

"Look, Sunstreaker." It was an order- soft but unyielding.

He twitched, slightly, then turned and stared down at her closed fist.

She opened it slowly- _ha! Take_ that, _Severus Snape. She could do dramatic, too-_ and watched as he saw them closely.

"I slid down a metal balustrade, in the Decepticon base," she said, as gently as she could make her voice. "I had to hold onto something for balance or I would have fallen off by nearly ten feet- and I needed a working leg far more than I needed a good left hand."

The scars over her palm were raised ridges, that would fade with time. In a few months, there would likely be nothing more than two lines, pale against the tan of her skin.

His head snapped up from his silent contemplation, a sudden realization in his optics. "Who else knows about this?"

She smiled wryly. "Who else is in this room?"

"… _why?"_

She exhaled, and fisted her hand again, letting it drop to her side. "You're not the only one with nightmares, Sunstreaker. What you're facing is a little daunting, I admit it. And I _thought_ you were facing PTSD, but you're not. You're worried, and off-balance, and it doesn't really help that you have other people in your head who might or might not be influencing your emotions."

She closed her eyes, and tried not to think of metal warping under her hands, the absolute surety of _death,_ the cooling corpse of a dead drone…

"I can't-"

_Enough._

She snapped. It wasn't a conscious decision- or an unconscious one. But she had spent _so long_ trying to make things right, and Sunstreaker did _not_ get to tell her what he could or could not do. Not when she had given up so much to fix up the bits she could.

"The next time you say you can't, _Sunny,_ I'll tell _everyone_ what happened in Kaon. And I'm talking about the _second time,"_ she added dangerously, when he appeared liable to interrupt.

His cooling fans switched on, followed closely by his heating fans- Evelyn admired, just for a moment, the sheer incongruity of the reactions before tacking on a sneer as the crowning glory. "Oh, yes. Sideswipe told me all about that."

"He wouldn't _dare,"_ he said piously- but there was a hint of betrayal there, and she upped her sneer wattage, on a scale from one-is-Scout-Finch to ten-is-Severus-Snape, to a proper seven: a solid reflection of Sunstreaker at his most supercilious.

"Get over yourself," she said sharply. "There are more important things in this world than you and your delusions of weakness. I don't have the time to coddle- you don't have the energy to waste. If you want to be an idiot, fine. Don't drag me into that quagmire of ugliness, though."

He exhaled angrily. "I don't want your pity. Never have, never will. So-"

"And I have never offered pity," she retorted.

"You haven't?" He hissed lowly. "Amidst anger and-"

" _Pity?"_ Evelyn had never felt so angry in her life. It was a stinging realization, that Sunstreaker could make her feel that way- and could probably read her well enough to know how she felt. "I have helped you. I have given you sympathy and empathy. You think I would _stoop_ to giving you something such as _pity!?"_

And… shit. Goodbye control, hello rage. And hysteria. She'd begun this with the intention of... _fuck._ She literally couldn't afford things like this. She must have been more tired than she thought- and that wasn't particularly feasible.

_I want things to go back to the way they were. Before nightmares and knives and bloody balancing between madness and triumph._

_I'll be a hero if I win, and a villain if I lose._

_No pressure, right?_

"Evelyn-"

And, quite suddenly, she didn't feel anything approaching rage. Just a quiet numbness that pervaded her very soul. "I don't want your pity, Sunstreaker. I don't want it, don't need it, and certainly don't deserve it."

"Jazz says you're suicidal," he said after a long pause.

She was thrown off, momentarily- she hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details, with Jazz, but she hadn't skimped either. How he had derived _suicidal_ from their conversations was a toss-up in any direction.

…not that he was _wrong._

::What.:: Megatron was back- with a vengeance. And he was angrier than usual. _::When the_ hell _did you- how did you_ hide _that? What the fragging-::_

 _::I did what I had to do::_ she replied, voice as even as she could make it. She had fought, hard, for that mental stability over the years- and she'd be damned if anyone could rip that from her so easily. _::I don't regret it.::_

It had been after the funeral of her last grandparent's death; she had watched in a dazed, helpless rage as the sepia coffin was lowered into the ground, and sworn that she would never feel that way again. Underlying all that bravado, though, had been the disquieting fear: if she could feel that way for a woman whom she rarely saw and shared only a few summers and a parent with…

…how would she feel when it was her _parents_ being buried there?

That fear had grown, creepers tangling up with others. She sacrificed, in other words, all her smaller phobias- spiders, heights, _death-_ in favor of one large one- losing her parents.

She _couldn't_ regret it.

And, yes, her answer to that fear- something others might have called paranoia or an illness, because it certainly consumed her enough to be categorized as an 'illness'- had been selfish. In many ways, it had been cruel.

But Evelyn had never claimed to be a hero, or, at the least, a good person.

She did what she had to do, and got by.

In the midnight crevasses of both rage and despair- the quiet surety that her greatest fear was inevitable and bitterly avoided- in the very shadows of her home, she had sworn to never bury her parents. Her every wish since had been that one thing, then- _I wish my parents live longer than me. I wish my parents live longer than me. I wish…_

Which was suicidal, to some.

 _::Do not regret wishing to_ die?:: He hissed back. _::What, were you waiting for me to drag you out of that?::_

She smiled, softly, and wondered when she had hidden enough away that Megatron did not understand her. _::I am not yet 'dragged out of that' as you put it, Megatron. You think I would have ever survived if my parents were hurt? In_ any _capacity? They are my Achilles' heel, in the barest sense of the term. Touch them- and I will do_ anything. _Morality is so very plebeian, these days.::_

 _::You are mad::_ he said, sounding horrified and awed at once.

She didn't bother to refute it. It was the truth, if one thought madness could be measured in the depths of viciousness a person was willing to descend to protect their loved ones.

"When did you figure it out?" She asked aloud, calmly.

Sunstreaker smirked. "Jazz still thinks you're stable. Or searching for stability."

"With you three as my anchors?" She asked, unable to keep a moue of irritation from her face. "I'd be doomed before I started."

"Which is what we tried to tell him- but what's the saying? 'None so blind as those who will not see'? Jazz doesn't like that you're more than a little insane."

"There's no need to look so smug," she said. "Jazz doesn't know everything about me- and neither do you."

He winced at that, but said nothing; it was a fair trade, and he knew it. This was the true world, she thought, measured in a balance of debts owed and paid; caught in words both heady and bright. He had hurt her with his words just as she had hurt him- but his reaction had been unfair not in reaction but in _size._

And he paid his fees now with no complaints.

She relaxed, then. There was nothing more to be done, in the darkness of the room. Words and truth was out, and if they hadn't caught the other's true nature in this entire time, it was not worth it to try.

Sunstreaker was as similar to her as she could imagine.

"Let's try to rest for a little while, yes?" She asked, finally. A peace offering, if nothing else, and one that could help her sleep. A win-win for all sides. "Hopefully we can actually sleep before Sideswipe leaps in, guns rolling." A roll of her eyes. "And Jazz continues his crusade for world-sanity."

"Not… world peace?" He murmured silkily.

She grinned unpleasantly- more a baring of her teeth than a softening of her face. "My goals have always been reachable."

Moving towards him- slowly, she didn't want to have to face another manifestation of his surprise- she laid a hand across his knee. In one smooth twist, she raised herself onto the bed, and tucked herself into a smooth crevice formed by the juncture of an underbrace and rivet.

He laid back, moving even slower, and she could literally _feel_ his wariness. Despite their words, there was a small part of him that worried, and it showed in the lack of movement.

"Trust," she whispered into the darkness, "is a double-edged sword, Sunstreaker."

And finally- _finally-_ he relaxed, stiffness fading into the loose-limbed sprawl he had always favored. Evelyn just huffed a sigh and curled around a little bit more, letting the metallic rumble of his engines lull her into a deeper sleep.

It felt surprisingly good.

And they both slept, for a time at least.

* * *

 


	12. Death a Note Unsaid

There was a knock on the door.

Sunstreaker almost groaned at the interruption- he'd been _asleep,_ without dreams, for the first time in weeks- and it had better be a damn good reason for Jazz to knock.

Or, at least, he thought it was Jazz, because Sideswipe had never bothered to knock in his life and Evelyn was beside him already. Despite that knowledge, he had no intention of appearing anything less than awake- Evelyn was likely the same. Paranoia was not unjustified when an entire race was against you.

"Evelyn?" He shifted, slightly; she was very light- her body mass so small against his bed that it was easy to imagine she wasn't even there. "Evelyn?"

"I'm up," she said, eyes snapping open. If there was a blue hint to them, he didn't say anything.

"Someone's knocking," he said quietly, tipping his head to the door. "Probably Jazz."

Her eyes drifted shut for a moment, face relaxing almost into a sleep- and then her face tightened back to normalcy. He wondered at that, until he realized that Megatron had probably accessed the cameras in the hallway and had likely determined whether they were enemies or not in the space of that breath.

_Should I be worried?_

She got up to walk to the keypad; it was only a beat later that he remembered that she didn't have to. Probably, she wanted some time to compose herself- that theory was confirmed when she turned around.

He could physically _see_ the difference in her eyes; a cool reserve that distanced the viewer almost immediately.

"Come in," she called through the door..

Jazz and Sideswipe were the first through the door, but their faces were studiously blank, and he felt himself stiffening in response to the silent tension.

Ratchet followed them inside, with Prime and Ironhide at his back. Sunstreaker saw how, in the brief gap between sight and proper reaction, Evelyn's face shifted- from sort-of-relaxed to wariness.

Then even that was erased, the harsh edges softening into a quieter curiosity: more cloaked and far less dangerous.

"Is something the matter?" She asked courteously, stepping away from the door and towards the interior.

He didn't miss that the movement, disguised as it was, placed him at her back. The insult he might have taken from that faded when Jazz and Sideswipe flanked her; the protection afforded from all of that was, while unnecessary, gratifying.

But their actions also said neither Jazz nor Sideswipe knew what was going on.

They were walking in blind.

_Slag._

"You… could say that," Ratchet said hesitantly.

The muscles in her neck tightened minutely, enough that any other would have missed it. She had noticed his reluctance and was likely calculating the chances of getting it out of him; she must have decided it wasn't high, so she turned to Prime and asked, voice tinged with exasperation, "What happened?"

He shrugged mutely; apparently, he and Ironhide were there for moral support than anything else.

"You mean, apart from Bluestreak bein' dragged back to base by Wheeljack?" Ironhide drawled, before she could turn to him. "The world's turned upside down, sky's gone green, and Ratchet's keepin' secrets. Everythin' else, though…"

Her reaction was to shift her muscles, and to anyone who hadn't studied earth-based forms of combat, it would be a completely innocent answer. But to him- and to Ironhide, if the way he gripped his cannons was any tell- it was a coiling, to leap into action that much quicker.

She didn't actually provoke anything, though, thank Primus. They were four on three- but one of them was _human,_ and another was injured.

And it was _Prime._ They could probably take Ironhide- definitely take Ratchet- but in the process…

She tilted her head at Ratchet, wry and probably deadpan. It was hard to see, though. Evelyn had a very good poker face.

"Ratchet? I swear to God- I won't kill you, whatever you've done." Her tone sharpened, slightly, when Ratchet didn't answer. "That is, if you've done something. My bark's worse than my bite, these days."

They all stared, he among them. It might have been a joke- but then, she had never shown a propensity for joking. Of all of them, it was she who had blown up the base and silenced the Decepticons far more ruthlessly than any Autobot raid had achieved; if that was her bite _now,_ Sunstreaker didn't want to be there when it went worse.

"Well." Ratchet coughed, looking determined to drag the topic back to where he'd begun this. "You said something a couple days ago, that I found… interesting."

Clearly, one could find more truth in Evelyn's offhand remarks than in her actual attempts at bluntness. He decided there was something wrong with him when all he could feel in response was amusement at her incorrigible obfuscation.

Except… Evelyn hadn't smiled, or even moved. She looked politely confused, as a soldier walking onto a land mine and no map would probably have looked. "And what, exactly, did I say?"

"You talked about radioactive battery fluid," he began. "And I wanted to know if there was a lasting effect the nanites would have on it, so I took samples from the warehouse and ran some gels, and I could see some… anomalies."

"I'm sure there was a point somewhere in that confession," she broke in irritably; her patience for the day had run out, she was tired, and they were in her personal rooms. _Get to the point,_ she said, still polite though clearly impatient. "But all the anomalies are likely to have been caused by the nanites- the long-term effects still haven't been identified, and I'm sure that's all it is. Now, if that's everything, I'll just ask you to-"

"No. It's not." Ratchet sounded almost insulted, but then a dawning realization poured down on him like Primus' own baptismal font, and the look of pity was back in his optics. "The irregularities… they were strange- initially, I thought they could be written off as Megatron messing up some of your systems, like you said- but I had some more time, recently-" a subtle dig at her decision to take him out of the medbay, not that Sunstreaker was complaining- "but the nanites shouldn't have affected your leukocyte count."

She arched an eyebrow slowly, but there was an undercurrent of horror and _oh-my-god-not-again_ weariness. "Ratchet-"

"It would probably take another sample by human standards, but we have slightly better technology- I took as many as I could, and they all came back the same. Your WBC's in the lower range of acceptable; you're a shoo-in for-"

"Ratchet-" she tried to interrupt, eyes flicking to meet theirs and dancing away just as quickly; he realized that she didn't want them there. This was a weakness she would prefer them not to be privy to, but they weren't giving her a choice in the matter.

And Ratchet just went on going, a flood of words he couldn't understand but could definitely see the impact of on her face.

"-leukemia."

She actually staggered back at that one, feet tripping over themselves and hurt eyes landing on him. She was sheet-white and he thought she might be trembling; suddenly, he remembered their conversation on sanity and thought this might just be the thing to push her over.

"A darkness that is not yet tapped," she murmured, just barely loud enough to be heard. "And it comes for me, of all the people here."

Her eyes skittered up to theirs- Jazz had recoiled, and Sideswipe was frowning, thunderclouds growing on his brow- and she flinched minutely.

The despair in them nearly silenced him.

Then, they flashed- an electric gleam that seemed to light up her entire face with ease. The planes of her face hardened, back and muscles straightening. Between one breath and the next, she went from shellshocked teenager to unflinching general.

This, here, was Megatron: the mech who commanded forces spanning worlds and galaxies; this was the mech who had challenged Prime for ascension of Cybertron and damn near _won_ that battle, even when _crippled._

"How much time do we have?" He asked, voice not faltering. The cool note there did not go unnoticed, though- Prime stiffened and Ironhide rolled his cannons. Both Jazz and Sideswipe remained frozen.

Ratchet exhaled gustily. "We caught it early. With proper assistance- two years."

He nodded. "And is it _caused_ by the presence of the nanites?"

"Yes," he said bluntly. "It is. But removing you would be useless, now; the nanites began their actions months ago. Your presence is regulating them, at a fundamental level. If we operate- ignoring the risks of such a surgery- it would likely kill her in less than a few weeks."

A long, gliding step forward- Sunstreaker could see the moment the metaphorical swords were unsheathed. Prime's jaw flexed, as did Ironhide's stance, but nobody moved as Megatron stared through alien eyes at the CMO.

"Then, why did you not catch it before?" He asked, voice as deadly soft as Evelyn on her best day.

It was easy, in that moment, to recognize that Evelyn truly was just student to master. She could not match Megatron- not yet, at least- in any field. Her mental stability notwithstanding, she was vicious. But that had nothing on Megatron, here and now. This was a foe none of them could truly stand against, not without blood and absolute defiance.

Prime stepped forward defensively, snarling something in Vosian- a language he did not understand. Megatron did, though, and it was… _interesting_ to see contemptuous rage on Evelyn's face.

"No." Ratchet's voice cut through the rising tension easier than a knife through butter. "It is a fair question, Prime. And… Megatron- I did not catch it because I was not looking for it. I am… sorry."

A short, sharp nod at Ratchet seemed to be his only response- but it was less than even Sunstreaker might have offered were he in the same situation.

When he turned away in clear dismissal, Sunstreaker was finally able to look around the room. Nothing had been touched, but so much had been ruined. Sideswipe bowed his head and fiddled with the rotary blades in his wrists- Sunstreaker thought there might have been a hint of helpless anger there.

Of course. Sunstreaker had bonded them to this chit of a girl, and in the space of _nothing-_ less than a blink, to creatures who lived for millennia- she would be dead, and they would be crippled. Jazz was faring better, but only slightly. Compassion for others was not so much a necessity in the Autobots as it was encouragement. If it came to it, Jazz looked out for himself first and others next.

And that left him to pick up the pieces.

"Thank you for your time. You may leave now." Succinct and probably insulting- no, scratch that, _definitely_ insulting, if Ironhide's glare was anything to go by- but he didn't exactly give a damn.

Not to people who gave information on his Lord's death.

He didn't turn around to look at them.

But when he looked for Evelyn, she was nowhere to be found.

 _Slag. How did we lose a Lord in the space of ten_ seconds? _We…_

"We can't lose her," Jazz said hoarsely, once the door slammed shut behind Prime. "We _can't."_

"Where is she?" Sideswipe asked, harshly. There were grooves in the metal surrounding his eyes that hadn't been there hours before.

He hesitated, then exhaled sharply. It fell to him, apparently, to do what needed to be done, even if he hated that job. "If Evelyn does not wish to be found, then she will not be found. Let us focus on what this means for the bigger picture-" he meant _for us,_ but he was too much a diplomat to say so, "-and get ready for when _she_ is ready to see it as well."

They nodded, and like dutiful soldiers, trooped out to the official library. Surely there was _something_ that could be done.

* * *

She had run, long and hard, as soon as she could.

Megatron ceded control when it became clear there was nothing more to be said; she moved as silently as she could out of the base and through the gates, as quickly as possible.

The cold desert air stung her cheeks- the tear tracks burned, like dry ice, on her skin. The numbness felt more grounding, though, perversely; the distance from the base lent her a fragile air of control.

The sobs didn't stop.

Landing, heavily, on her knees _hurt._ Sand was supposed to be soft- but heavily packed, it wasn't any easier to land on than concrete. As a wind whipped grit into her mouth and nose, Evelyn felt herself falling, falling, _falling-_ deep into the crevices of her very being, of her very _soul._

 _::Why?::_ Megatron asked, more bewildered than angry. _::We have ways to fix you. To ensure that you survive.::::_

She choked back the tears with ferocity that was not unfound on bears, and struggled to keep control. How to tell him that it was not fear of death that had left her so shaken, but something far more primal?

It was her weaknesses that left her wanting to scream, both emotional and physical. Her body was betraying her, when she had relied on it to be the one thing she had that Megatron didn't- a body. She _needed_ that to keep a grappling hold on the Cybertronian world.

Why was she able to be a Lord?

Because Megatron was inside her head.

Why was she not allowing Megatron to be operated out?

Because he wanted to retain control, and she was far likelier to listen to him.

She had no idea how to put what she felt in words, the instinctive _hatred_ against that feeling. The method Megatron spoke of was risky, yes, but not so if done in the proper conditions. Taking organic minds and integrating them into mechanical bodies was not as hard a process as many would think. Ratchet could do it with ease.

However- there was an immediate recoil against becoming Cybertronian that was ingrained in her; she would have to fight past that in order to truly become one of them.

If she so wished it.

Finally, she said:

 _::I am not one of you- and I have never wanted to be. Everyone I love is human, Megatron, and while I might have grown to love you and Jazz and the Twins, I don't just yet. It is not in me to throw myself headlong into such a mad venture. I don't want to live for millennia longer than my family, I don't think I can survive it. And what about peace? Don't you think I want that for myself? Don't you think I'm_ owed _that?::_

 _::So::_ he said heavily, voice tight with despair, _::you condemn, with your weakness and selfishness, not just yourself- but me, as well.::_

 _::Is everything I do a reflection on you?::_ She asked bitterly.

His bit back instantly. _::Are you so foolish to think that we are as separate as you would have Prime believe?::_

 _::I thought we would have some time!::_ She shrieked, rage surpassing sadness for a brief moment. _::I thought I would have the ability to make a_ choice, _Megatron, or will you take that, too, from me?_

_::As you have everything else?::_

There was a breathless pause, where even she was shocked at her audacity.

Then- _::What else have I taken from you, O Master Mine? What have I stolen that I have not yet paid back?::_

And that was how the prey became predator; how the hidden trap snapped shut.

 _::The interest::_ she said, both rage and shock disappearing as only facades could- to reveal grim satisfaction.

She felt him literally reel in shock, and visibly rally a full ten seconds later. Her vicious smile grew.

The human idea of interest- of getting more the longer one put it aside, as in a bank- was not unique. And while, in fairy tales, there was no interest- a favor owed today could be paid tomorrow, the day after, or ten years from now with no difference in the amount owed- in Cybertronian history, there was a difference.

Interest, it was said, was defined as follows: a favor owed today would be repaid as soon as possible, with an equal favor. Until then, the people were indebted. If, however, the favor was _not_ repaid immediately, then the amount owed would be doubled, if the lag-time was a year.

So, in other words, if a favor was owed, if the person waited a year to pay the favor, he owed _two favors._

Megatron, in appearing in her head, owed her for two weeks of nightmares, followed by the long months of planning. He had claimed to pay her back for everything with eternal glory.

But it was fast approaching the one year time, and he hadn't yet given her anything. She was now claiming she deserved more than just glory and necessity. She was, in the same breath, implying that her payment could either be something as of yet unknown, or his silence on this matter.

 _Let us see you survive_ this, _unharmed, Megatron._

* * *

The chit of a girl was growing a proper mind.

Megatron, in that moment, _hated_ her. She had just delivered a final blow. And she was relying on his sense of honor to carry the day- to carry the battle. The smallest part of him wanted to tell her that he was not honorable enough to be depended on to hold to such old oaths.

Except he _was,_ and she knew it.

 _::You want my silence?::_ He asked carefully. If she said yes-

_::No.::_

_::…then what do you want?::_

Her mind retreated, fluidly, from the last statement, dancing away from her shock and rage- they were true enough, he suspected, it was just that they were not the only things she felt. She had wielded them as one would use swords: sharp and deadly and ruthlessly.

He had never stood a chance, not when the deck was stacked against him so heavily.

_::Your loyalty.::_

No. _No._ Damn her to the deepest pits of hell, damn _him_ to Unicron's own lair! She could not ask him to bend knee to _her,_ he owed himself and too many of his followers…

Oh. _Oh._

She was getting smarter by the day.

If she did get him, then she balanced herself on the pinnacle between Autobot and Decepticon; what Prime would call good and bad, she would call traditional and revolutionary.

(The irony was, the Decepticons were the revolutionary traditionalists. The Autobots were… just their enemies.)

It was a balance she desperately needed, especially if he left, as he would likely do. In order to achieve her goals, she needed an equilibrium- not a skewed set of scales. She had only Autobots sworn to her cause so far, she needed a Decepticon.

And who better than their leader?

 _::That is not mine to offer::_ he murmured. _::I owe it to my people first. I cannot ask it of you-::_

_::Oh, Megatron. Ask it of me.::_

The saccharine sentence was not a suggestion- it was an _order._

 _::Then I ask of you to place the requirements of the 'Cons at the forefront of your goals::_ he snarled, quite done with the entire charade. She could not do that, any less than he could swear total loyalty, and she knew it.

Primus save him from goddamned fools.

_::I won't.::_

_::Fine::_ she said, voice too calm for capitulation. He waited, and she went on, just a hint smug. _::But I am owed one favor that is yet unclaimed, and it is both life-debt and friendship. If you cannot bring yourself to bend knee, then I will claim your silence. I won't choose something that will affect_ you, _adversely, but this is_ my decision. _And I will keep it that way.::_

He really, _really_ hated her.

_::Fine. You have a deal.::_

She nodded, and sank against the sand, staring up at the night sky. Wind tickled her hair and face; it blew grit into her eyes. Blinking, hard, and ignoring the faintest edge of helpless rage from him, she exhaled.

_::Do you remember our first week here?::_

_::The one with chemical fires, Prime's idiocy, and your carelessness?::_

She laughed. _::I think we remember it differently- but the time-frame is the same. But I couldn't sleep, and you told me stories. Remember?::_

Oh, yes, he remembered. There had been no reason to say those stories; they were only to calm her racing mind down. And it hadn't been anything of value, so why had he felt so… exposed? The feeling had been faint enough that he had ignored it.

That didn't change the fact that he had felt it.

_::Yes, Evelyn. I remember it.::_

Her voice hardened. _::I don't think you do, Megatron. I think you only remember what you were given-::_ her tone softened, slightly, _::-and nothing of what you gave. Both are equally important, aren't they?::_

 _::My memory is as good as it always was::_ he replied frostily. There were lines that shouldn't be crossed- and Evelyn had just leapt, neatly, over them all. _::Meaning photographic. Meaning-::_

 _::-better than anything I can recall?::_ She asked wryly.

_::You said it. Not me.::_

_::Damn it, Megatron!::_ He felt the mental equivalent of a shove, and balanced himself better on the balls of his feet to absorb the blow. _::I'm trying to apologize here!::_

Wait. Back up five seconds. Play the memory bank again.

Try to absorb the meaning behind the words.

_::…what?::_

He was immensely proud of the fact that his voice didn't waver.

 _::Apologize::_ she said sharply. _::As in say that I'm sorry? It was cruel of me to do that to you- and unreasonable.::_

And if there was anyone there who would understand _necessary evil,_ it was him.

 _::Fine::_ he said grudgingly. _::I accept your apology. And your terms. They are… more than fair.::_

Evelyn nodded. Aloud, she said, throatily, "We need to make plans."

_::Indeed.::_

* * *

Sideswipe was set aside for keeping watch on the base cameras; Sunstreaker and Jazz focused on reading through the data pads as quickly as possible.

It was hours later, with a lot of emphasis on tired optics and exhausted flipping through the pads, when Jazz straightened abruptly.

"Read it," he ordered Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker looked hesitant as he did so, slowly dragging the pad closer and scanning it.

He slumped back, rubbing a free hand over his head. If that meant what he suspected…

Sunstreaker's head snapped up. "Let's go."

_It does._

_Thank Primus._

"Um, guys?" Sideswipe sounded… wary. "She's back."

* * *

Evelyn had already entered their hangar, and turned, sharply, meeting their excited gazes with…

Resignation?

But before he could say something, Jazz was babbling away- faster than Sunstreaker'd ever seen him. It was a toxic mixture, he decided, of shock, fear and relief, melding into some other emotions too raw for him to define. The revelation had unbalanced them all.

"There's a chance for you to survive, if we take your consciousness- and Megatron's, of course- and put it in a mechanical body- at least that's what's been proven to work before, and it has, with enough of a recovery rate; it'll be kinda hard to do but we have all the supplies, if we don't Ratchet'll give 'em, and you'll be fine, so…"

He trailed off, staring at her. "…and you already knew this."

The red blush deepened across her face and neck, from light-pink to near-red. And though she shifted uncomfortable, she didn't say anything- just inclined her head, slowly; silently.

Sideswipe broke in. "Evelyn-"

She held up a hand, cutting him off. Focusing a little more on _her,_ not just their _idea_ , revealed long scratches down her arm and reddened eyes; she had been crying and likely was dead-tired.

Evelyn inhaled, almost as if it were a steadying breath.

"I'm leaving."

Wait. _What?_

Jazz frowned as if it were a joke, Sideswipe recoiled as if stung, and, Sunstreaker realized a minute later, that his jaw had dropped unattractively.

Her face twisted into a grimace. "I'm sorry. That… could have come out better."

" _Really?"_ He drawled into the tense silence, knowing his anger was visible but doing nothing to curtail it.

She bristled, before deflating. "I need some time, guys. Away from… everything. It's too much, and too little, and-"

"What the _hell_ do you mean, leaving?" Jazz barked. "Aside from the lack of safety- just _why?"_

He sounded rather betrayed, in fact. Sunstreaker felt his lip curl derisively; such freely expressed emotion- especially in situations where there wasn't any _reason_ for it- wasn't something he could agree with.

"I mean that I need some space," she said quietly, though he thought she leaned, reflexively, into the shadows. "I can't… I need to think, to reflect. If I do choose to become Cybertronian, then I want it to be _my_ decision- not something done because it was _your_ preference. Isn't that what you want, too? For me-"

"What we want," Sideswipe said firmly, immovably, almost _angrily,_ "is for us to survive."

'Us.' As in him, Sunstreaker, Jazz, and Evelyn. He wondered if Sideswipe knew that his words had probably managed to prevent the burgeoning disaster of an angry Evelyn, tense Jazz, and insulted Sunstreaker.

Her face softened, slightly, at the well-meant words, though the resolve did not dim. "Survive, or live?" She asked, gently. "The two are not so similar."

"Nor are they so different," Jazz bit out. "Not as different as you would have us believe. How dare you! We gave everything to you, and when the going gets tough-"

"-the tough get going," she replied, eyes hardening.

Jazz snarled something under his breath; Sideswipe stepped in between them with an alarmed look on his face.

 _Do something,_ he mouthed at Sunstreaker.

He frowned. If there was one thing that could be relied on to keep her there, it was:

"It is not necessarily survival of _yourself,_ Evelyn. There are… others, to be aware of, before you commit yourself to such an undertaking. You are a Lord, and there are responsibilities that come with it. Don't- you _cannot-_ deny that."

The level stare she sent at him said she knew very well what he was doing, and was letting him do it anyways.

No matter. As long as he got what he wanted…

"I'm not trying to deny it," she said flatly. "Just trying to balance _myself,_ when all I feel is _alien emotion."_

_"What is that supposed to mean?"_

Sideswipe almost dragged Jazz out of the room at his shout- Evelyn flinched, minutely, but held her ground with remarkable aplomb. It was rather amusing, in a bittersweet manner, that it was him and Sideswipe- known for their hot tempers and quick assumptions- that were calming the even-keeled Jazz more than the other way around.

"What?" She asked disdainfully.

The infinitesimal flash of hurt had faded, cooling into anger, but now even that shifted, from heat to cold contempt. It was in this mood that she was worst to deal with, Sunstreaker knew, but it was also in this mood that she was most amenable to compromise- if he could make her see some sort of reason.

"Are you telling me that you haven't felt the shift in emotions?" She sneered. "I was gone in the desert- probably a mile or two- and I _hated_ the idea of becoming Cybertronian. Then I walk back here, and suddenly all I want is to become one of you?" Her lip curled, eyes narrowing to slits of earthen rage. "I've never been bipolar, I assure you. I don't change my mind _that_ quickly."

"Survival-" He began heatedly, only to be stopped by Sunstreaker's hand on his shoulder.

"We want to keep you safe," he told her seriously. It had been feelings that dictated the course of this conversation, and it was clear that she had made up her mind. It was time to talk logistics.

Her jaw flexed, but her stiff posture relaxed, too. He had learned to take the smaller victories with the largest with Evelyn, and this was akin to a sign of parley.

"I can take care of myself," she said evenly. Her eyes met his, glinting with defiance, like heat in a summer storm. "Who was it who brought us out of the 'Con base?" She ignored Sideswipe's sharp inhalation, and remained focused on only him.

And, yes. There was a part of Sunstreaker that wanted to recoil and leap away, let the warmth of this camaraderie fade away like just another memory. But the larger part of him noted and acknowledged Evelyn's tactics of redirection, and this was just more noticeable than most. He wanted her to be safe- but he also understood that coddling her and forcing her away from the world was only going to turn her against them.

It wasn't like they were her parents.

 _No,_ a snide voice murmured in his head. _She's just erased them and sent them where none of us can follow._

He determinedly ignored that voice.

"It was you," he said, needlessly defiant. He felt his cooling fans switch on, faintly, at that.

Her stance remained, immutable, and balanced- feet spread, arms folded, eyes narrowed. She looked like one of those trees, Sunstreaker thought, that were thousands of years old and so very large- they were taller, probably, than three Autobots, piled on each other's shoulders.

"I am resourceful," she went on, carefully, "and, if nothing else, Megatron can protect me. I am not defenseless."

Jazz honed in on her words. "So, what does _Megatron_ think about all this?"

She winced- just a small tightening of muscles around her neck and jaw- but he saw it, and that meant Jazz had too.

"He's not opposing it," she said quietly.

But if she hoped that surety would end the threat, she was sorely mistaken. Jazz was never one to back away from a fight, and intelligent enough to know a sore topic when he found one.

"But he isn't _supporting_ it?" He asked dryly.

The humor rankled something in her expression, because it instantly closed off. The tension was back. "He will not say anything against it. We have decided it is _my_ decision, because it is _my body-_ and he _will_ support it."

"Is that a threat?" Jazz asked coldly.

_Even to an objective viewer, that would have been called a threat._

She raised an eyebrow, deliberately insulting to Jazz as he'd never known her to be for anyone other than Prime on his best day and Ironhide on his worst. "Will you take it as one?"

 _"Answer the question!"_ He snarled.

The smirk that stole over her face was oddly discordant with the tension still visible in the lines of her body. Quite suddenly, he knew what she was going to do.

" _Make me,"_ she hissed right back.

They stilled, all of them, even Jazz. In two words, she had managed to throw them all of their game; though she probably didn't realize it, she accused them of disloyalty. Of dissent.

Of _defiance._

Then Sunstreaker saw the lines grooved into the corners of her face, the weight of nightmares along the curve of her shoulders, and the regret she so rarely allowed people to see- and remembered that, if nothing else, she was aware of what she said. Nothing she had done had been without a reason, and he had, mentally, acknowledged it.

The reality was far more galling.

But she deserved to be treated as an equal. Since they began, she had promised to treat _them_ as _her_ equals- but they had forgotten, in the mad rush of oaths and power and loyalty, that respect ran both ways. She deserved it as much as she had given it.

So he spoke: "How long will you be gone?"

Her lips whitened, so tight were they pressed. She looked about an inch away from placing her neck on the executioner's block and telling him to finish the job he'd begun.

"A week," she said brusquely. "It should… I'll be gone for that long. If I'm not back in seven days' time, then I give you permission to search for me."

The stolid look of rebellion on her face told him they would never find her.

"And where will you be going?" Sideswipe asked.

"Places," she replied vaguely. With an apologetic wave, she sighed. "There… Megatron and I were together for a pretty long time before we came here. It was enough time to set up a few safe houses."

Knowing her, there would be a hundred.

"And those safe houses are _mine,"_ she continued. "I can't… I _can't_ give them to you."

Sunstreaker understood. Sometimes, a person needed those places, where they could store the pieces of themselves and never fear for their safety. Evelyn probably had those locked up, hidden in small homes and gutters and nondescript neighborhoods so well she had forgotten what they felt like, and that was why she needed to go, to see who she was; to be reminded of who she was.

Perhaps, in another decade or so, Evelyn would be able to trust those pieces to them. But it was far easier to ensure their safety when they weren't in living hands, and he knew it- Evelyn would probably always depend on the safe houses to keep those most-deeply hidden parts of herself anodyne.

"A week," he agreed. "Seven days and no more."

Her head jerked down in a sharp nod- both agreement and reminder: he was not the leader.

Graciously, he stepped aside, let her move forward-

-only to have Jazz move into the way.

Her breath hitched- he only heard the slight hiccup because she was right next to him- and she stared up at Jazz with something akin to betrayal.

"Jazz," she whispered, both warning and prayer.

His face twisted, and all hope of peaceful reconciliation died with it. "I'm not okay with this."

"I never asked you to be okay with it," she replied wearily.

"Evelyn-"

"This is _my_ choice, and mine alone," she told him, and if her tone was more worn-through and the decisiveness rang hollow, Jazz was courteous enough not to call her on it. "I cannot choose to become a robot because you want me to. I cannot choose to become one of you because Megatron wants me to. If I choose to become a Cybertronian, Jazz, it will be because _I_ wanted to. Not a body else."

His hand wavered slightly, as it swept down. "You owe me."

"I do," she acknowledged. "But nothing more than what I owe myself. And I swear to God- if you push this decision on me, it will be to all our regrets."

"You want me to step aside, and let you leave," he said, voice tight.

She smiled, wryly. "I suppose this will teach us trust, if nothing else."

And with that- and a short, sharp nod, one to him and one to Sideswipe, she slung the go-bag-

(And didn't that hurt, that she kept everything packed, as if waiting to be rejected, as if today had been the final day of a long string of paradise and now she was on her way back to the real world?)

-onto her shoulder and walked out the door.

Jazz followed her out, but turned right instead of the left she had taken. Sideswipe looked tired- he'd been the one to talk the least, likely because he had no strong opinions on matters like this, and wasn't going to push, not when Jazz and Evelyn were already throwing their weight around- and it showed. A knowing glance between the two was all it took for them to recognize their preferences for the night- loneliness and silence.

Sideswipe had always liked the stars and the great unknown, so he headed outside.

Sunstreaker had always liked the silence of a quiet bedroom, so he stayed inside the hangar.

And when it was emptied, and all was silent, he opened his hand in one of the few patches of moonlight in the room, and like a flower unfurling its petals, a small metal thumb drive was visible amidst the smooth metal of his palm.

_Little wonder she didn't want the others to know._

* * *

 


	13. Matters of Circumstance

**WARNING: There is a rather severe case (for me, who hates reading and writing it) of torture and death later in this chapter. Evelyn is more than a little unhinged, and though she recovers a little- and she will become better later- this _needed to happen._ I avoided any explicit mentioning of violence, but there's a lot of heavy implying going on.**

* * *

She drove the nondescript car for a number of miles, away from Tranquility and straight through the desert. Leaving it in a used car lot- the man who paid was dour enough that she didn't need to worry about him telling anyone, and the cash he gave wasn't traceable, so it was a better deal than she let on- she bought a blue Toyota, which she drove for a markedly longer distance.

Still, it was too easy for a Cybertronian to track, especially if they searched for her car, and she hadn't survived by being _complacent._

That was left in a side-ditch when she got within five miles of a safe house.

This one had been carefully chosen: it was far enough that she could execute evasive maneuvers flawlessly, close enough that she didn't need to travel for too long, and had all the necessary supplies for her to survive for three months if she was extravagant- more if she was careful.

It was a long, silent trek to the home, but memories fluttered in time to the sways of the trees' branches, and the wind held traces of her mother's rosemary scent.

It had been a long time since she felt like she was home.

Walking into the neighborhood- it was a large, fairly sedate one, and affluent enough that she didn't need to worry about crime while not so rich that she needed to consider protecting herself from attention- she paused at the door, trying to remember the passcode.

Every safe house had a different code. It was a safety thing, Megatron had insisted.

She'd called him paranoid and obeyed him to the letter.

 _::Zero-nine-one-four::_ Megatron said into the silence.

She flinched.

But the code worked, and she stepped into the cool interior, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.

Here, there was another car, another Toyota- though, yes, this time it was black- and she was mentally tallying what all she needed to pack as she entered the house proper.

Moving inside, she flipped on the lights, and the sudden glare blinded her, for just a short moment.

Just long enough to completely short out her mental processes.

And, quite suddenly, that small pain- that small part that was an involuntary reaction- was the snapping point.

She had decorated this house carefully- because there were too many nosy neighbors for her to ever feel comfortable otherwise- with an eye for safety. Carefully placed glass vases were positioned on marble pillars throughout the downstairs, a maze that was aimed to slow those with greater mass- meaning, _everybody-_ and not do the same for her.

She lunged forward, hand open in a clawed sort of numbness, and hurled every last vase into the far wall.

It was a symphony of broken glass and dripping wood; even as she plumbed the depths of her rage, she was utterly silent.

Spinning around, she began to throw open the cupboards, cold fury and bitter, _bitter_ bile in her throat as she struggled to hold back the fruitless tears.

Then her foot landed on a glass piece.

It was the tender, fleshy spot at the arch of the foot, and it was _indescribably_ painful. Hunched over, hands scrabbling for a hold as she tried to maintain her balance, all she could think was:

_This is so pathetic._

From killing Decepticons in their own base, reduced to… this.

Megatron hesitantly moved forward, mind flowing down her arms- torso- legs- and stopping at her feet; deadening it to touch, slowly and gently.

"Please," she forced out through chapped, dry lips, thinking about how little he had had to do to make her beg, "don't."

Broken and bleeding, bruised and bent. If she died tomorrow, there would only be aliens to stand at her grave, and her parents would never know it. She was alone, in every damned sense of that word.

The pain felt like penance.

* * *

The days went by in a sort of daze, warm and pretty but also acidic in their burn.

(Perfection of life versus impending death… how dare the world be pretty when she would die tomorrow?)

And she moved, lingering in certain homes while avoiding others; she spent almost two days in a tiny cottage in the middle of the desert, falling asleep to cicadas and waking up to the sun's blinding glare- it was the closest to peace she'd felt in longer than a year.

Even before Megatron and everything that followed him, she had been… angry. Unbalanced and hurt and constantly wary, of either betrayal or disappointment.

Here, and now, cloistered in silence and smothered in sand, she felt _alive._

Irony was, indeed, a powerful force.

But she moved on past that, turned east and danced in wooded groves in Colorado- splashed in streams and wove flowers into thorned laurels as if they were blooded olive leaves of ancient Greek Olympics. She wrapped a linen cloth around her body; spent hours twisting her body in and out of shadows like a dryad or a forest nymph.

It was _fun._

And best of all, Megatron didn't speak against her. He watched, and learned, and perhaps there was a little confusion when he saw her frivolousness, but in the end he didn't actually say anything.

Her whirlwind of nature exploration ended on her fifth day: in a small town called San Domingo.

The town- though, really, it should have been called a pueblo; it was probably smaller than most suburban neighborhoods- was dusty and run-down, the people dressed in dusty, worn clothes.

She had ditched her car a few miles out, and trekked the entire distance. She would have avoided the entire town, in fact, had it not been for the sudden realization that she was running low on water- nearly everything else could be procured, but in the middle of the desert water was more precious than any other luxury- and this was the closest area that guaranteed clean water.

 _::Though_ clean _would be a little bit of an exaggeration::_ she told Megatron, just a hint dry.

He huffed in amusement. _::I wonder if there's a little bit of that rag the cashier used to wipe down the counter in there?::_

_::Don't even joke about that.::_

"How much?" She asked, reaching for her wallet-

-and instantly, she knew she had made a mistake.

These people wanted to know where her money was. And she had just _shown_ them.

 _Sometimes, I am an absolute_ idiot.

But, after a fashion, this could only be considered _good._ Megatron had, for all his understated support, been chafing for more freedom, she could feel it. And violence was a good way for him to work off some of that frustration, especially in this backwater town where nobody would report anything.

 _::Let's get down to_ business:: she murmured, gleefully, into that breath between action and reaction.

He chuckled, and reached for the reins with no hesitation whatsoever. _::to defeat the Huns?::_

And with that single _gem_ of popular culture- Evelyn adored Disney, never mind what others spouted about sexism, and Mulan was a better movie than most modern ones- he took control.

There were five men in the bar-cum-convenience store. Of them, two would not fight; they were too old to be depended on to achieve anything other than broken bones.

However, they could carry guns- she didn't know if their hands would be good or not, but it didn't matter anyways; she was within a ten-foot radius. Missing at that range said they were either novices with guns- which she highly doubted in such a small town as this, because most would be dependent on fowl for food- or idiots, and both had the gleam of intelligence in their eyes.

The other three were younger men who had the potential to be truly dangerous; Evelyn would have to be careful that they didn't diminish her greatest asset: her speed.

Though she wasn't really worried.

They thought she was just a camper, and she was so much more it wasn't even _funny._ That confidence showed, if not on her face then in her body. The smooth shift of muscles and limbs, sliding the hilt of a sharp knife subtly to her hand triggered the initial change in the mood- from unease to outright threat.

Still, she had an absolute inability to leap into confrontations head-first, with no reservation.

So, she said: "There's no reason for anyone to get hurt, if you just walk away. Give me the water-" directed at the bar-keep, "-and everybody'll walk away happy."

Of course, they wouldn't let that happen.

It was a young man who lunged forward first, hands extended out in a half-crazy maneuver that was bound to fail.

In fact, it was in that moment that Evelyn realized exactly how harsh she'd been on herself; Megatron had certainly taught her enough to deal with this one man- and, probably, the majority, though not without injury. Sparring with Lennox and Epps had left her shaky, but the truth was that they were both immensely brilliant fighters- albeit _human_ fighters. Megatron could take them- but he was _Megatron._

These people never stood a chance.

And even though she _could_ fight- she didn't. She let Megatron leap to the forefront, and do what he did best: destroy.

Though that wasn't really fair, and she was honest enough to know that he was a better mech than not.

_::Don't kill them.::_

He grunted in response, dropping to a spinning crouch and slicing a man's sleeve to ribbons- and dodging the two punches that were coming from two different directions, in one practiced movement. She slid into control with a hiss, when a sharp noise- the man behind the counter did have a gun, after all- nearly deafened her.

The other men were off-balance after that, but Megatron recovered faster and lunged forward, arms flinging two canisters of smoke bombs, no bigger than her thumb, at them. They exploded, and she leapt back, adding the propulsion of the bomb to her speed, and twisting around, balancing on the man's thigh for a bare second, using it as a platform before wrapping her legs around his neck, dragging his weight down just as she had with Lennox, before.

She stumbled out of the shop thirty seconds later, knife pressed against the boy's throat, two men coughing and choking. The contempt in her face was very clear, she thought.

These men wouldn't try to rob her again.

"¿Qué debo hacer contigo? She asked, taking care to keep her voice cool and smooth, unharmed by the acrid smoke. Megatron snapped forward, a smooth motion designed to take control- but all that was visible to the outside viewer of her resistance would be the blood, now welling from the boy's throat.

"He has a family," the old man replied, eyes angry, broken and just plain tired. "He has a brother, who needs him."

But he still tried, to stop her from killing him.

And there was such a large part of her that wanted to. Megatron was pushing her- she, too, wanted to. Watch redness gush out from his throat, see the fear and hopelessness in his brother's gaze, the anguish that she could inflict…

_Enough blood has been shed in this war._

"He shouldn't have tried to kill me," she hissed, "not if he wanted to _survive,_ Señor. I am a killer-" and that was the bare truth, wasn't it? She could hide behind trite sayings, shield herself from the harshness of that color, but the truth was that when it came down to it, she was a murderess and a liar and a sociopath. "-but I warned you. _You_ escalated it."

The man's shoulders slumped, and he looked at her, bitter and grieving.

She wondered how much loss he had faced, to weather the lines of his face like that.

The truth was that she would never see those markings on herself, no matter what choice she made. Dead in truth or dead in body; the feeling remained. Evelyn was never going to see the carvings of the sun on her face, the weatherings of time would never make themselves known to her.

Metal did not hold the same capacity for aging as skin did.

_Enough, Evelyn._

"Give me my water," she ordered softly.

The man's eyes narrowed on hers, but she remained blank, unreadable. Then he barked out a low, " _Juan!"_ And the message was passed on through the rows of people, the water returned, passed back as a water-line would have formed, back in the day before firefighters, to combat houses on fire.

Water was tossed at her, and she caught it openly, letting the knife slide back into its sheath in the same movement, disguising its location.

"Next time you come after me," she said lowly, "you _will_ regret it."

And she turned, stalked out of the town and its people with their broken-down pride, with all the vicious fury of a girl who was thwarted in something she _wanted_ to be stopped at- and furious for that at the same time.

 _::If you really want blood on your hands::_ Megatron told her, _::I know men who deserve death.::_

She should walk away. She should let him go, as she had the boy, as she had walked away from Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and Jazz when she knew that had she stayed a moment longer, she would have torn them apart- would not have stopped, no matter if they were bonded or Oathsworn. She needed to kill _something,_ and if that happened to be terrorists or other such unsavory characters…

All the better.

For the world, really.

_::Tell me more.::_

* * *

Dennis Smith was a man with a stellar past: no arrests, not even any tickets. He was, for all purposes, a blank slate, nothing to stand out in either a good or bad way. In fact, he was one of the most average people, from looks to actions to profession.

Which was why, of course, he was an absolute fraud.

Dennis Smith also went by the name of Checkered Dean, in another life.

He was a very, _very_ well-known thief.

Honestly, Evelyn could forgive burglary and smuggling- neither were, by themselves, potentially _physically_ harmful to others. In another life, she might well have been tempted into such white-collar crime: it was where the money lay, with little of the danger.

But sex trader was another step altogether.

And _that_ was one she would have never taken, not while some semblance of her morals remained. There were few things she considered worse, and Smith was a disgusting individual by all records.

He stepped into his home, closing the door behind him. She watched him behind closed lids as Megatron hacked into the feeds of his house and played the tapes, swilling chilled wine in one hand and waiting- a cat luring her prey in to toy with it.

Smith stiffened at the faint smell of smoke and perfume, a feminine scent he'd never brought in…

 _::A gun?::_ She murmured, smooth and heavy, mock-disappointment roiling through her voice. _::So… cliché.::_

Megatron was amused, too. _::Did you expect better?::_

_::I could hope, could I not?::_

_::For him to be smart?::_ He asked. _::If the criminals weren't stupid, Evelyn, you wouldn't be going after them. He deserves a better death than a sniper's rifle. And you wanted to make it personal, so…::_

She wasn't amused. _::You've thought of everything, haven't you?::_

_::Not everything.::_

She smiled, thinly. _::I want to_ kill him _. I want to feel his blood staining the ground, and the way he screams when he realizes why I am here.::_

_::You are not the best person to be throwing stones.::_

_::I don't live in a goddamn glass house::_ she bit back impatiently. _::I'm in a metal bunker, Megatron, I can_ handle _him. He deserves death, before he goes worse, and everybody knows it. A man who built an empire around selling stolen art now stepping into the darker aspects… he has guts, I'll give you that much, but too little spine for it to work. Death now will be kinder than anything the Mafias would do to him if they got hold of him, after he trespassed one time too many.::_

 _::And this has nothing to do with his monopoly on art forgery in the Southern United States?::_ He asked dryly. _::Bringing those assets into the human trafficking system would be a substantial… boost. To him. And, to you, a method to get a quick return on some risky investments.::_

She was going to answer- but then Smith turned the corner, into the room, and she was distracted.

Damn. He was getting to her at a bad time, when she was unbalanced and irritated. Smith was a good conman, whatever else he was diving into, and she would need her wits about her to keep him occupied, if she wanted to play with him before springing the trap.

Wait for it…

"Who the _hell_ are you?"

Time for the hunt.

"Hello, Mr. Smith," she said evenly, not bothering to rise to her feet. "Or can I call you Dennis?"

"Who are you?" He asked again.

She smiled over the rim of her flute, and said, "You've angered many people, Dennis, in the recent days. But you'll never have heard of me, that much I promise."

"Italian Mafia?" He guessed, ignoring her.

Swiveling around on the chair, she smiled pleasantly at him. "You've angered many people," she repeated. "And they want you to pay up."

He took in the dress she wore- Evelyn had wanted to relish this moment, as far as she could, and the scarlet dress she wore, with all its dramatic flourishes and provocative linings, was as much high fashion as she could get on short notice. When she'd seen it in the shop, it had looked tattered and a little threadbare; she had imagined herself in it and called it tacky. But Megatron had insisted- and he'd been right.

Blood looked good on her skin.

"This doesn't look like _paying up,"_ he said, tilting his head in one, lascivious motion.

She fought not to crinkle her nose or otherwise damage the moment, smiling tightly at him. "Oh, you don't know what that looks like until you're in the middle of paying it. Especially when I'm the one making you pay."

Then, of course, he said, "You don't understand."

Her lips whitened under the strain of holding back words; when she felt herself tremble from indignation nonetheless, she took a long sip from the glass in her hand. "Make me."

"I _had_ to," he began, and she felt all reservations die a violent death in the back of her mind. Her temper warred with her desire for revenge: while neither was mutually exclusive, at this point in time, she could either play this by the script they'd sketched out, or fly by the seat of her pants.

Who the _hell_ was she trying to kid? She wanted her blood, and this man was the best way to get it, without killing someone she _cared about._

And she wanted it _now._

"Let me guess," she hissed, letting the artifice drip away, to reveal only furious disdain. "You made so much money as a conman, in the white-collar business. You built up a regime, an _empire,_ where you were _king._ You dragged yourself out of the gutter and into the throne; _nobody_ dared to stand up against you, not when you still held that crown."

The flute shattered against the fireplace, and the flames rose up, for a brief moment flaring, and it was then that she rose, a dark shadow silhouetted against the brilliant fire.

"But then, things were too… easy. No one would challenge you, who would _dare,_ when you were king? And you saw how people would respect the Mafias, how they bowed and scraped and _you_ never got that. So… you decided to go into the trade." There was no more mercy in her gaze, pitiless as stone. "The sex trade. Because you thought it would be _fun."_

"I'm the one with the gun," he told her mockingly. "Tell me all you know, little girl, and I'll make your death quick."

Quick as a flash, Evelyn darted forward, Megatron in the fore. The gun discharged- she'd give him that much, at least he got off one shot- but it had already been pointed away from them. In the space of two breaths, Evelyn had a knife pressed to his throat, and the gun pointed straight at his femoral artery.

"Oh, Dennis," she purred, feeling the darkness of the night, the shadows of her past, take her. She welcomed the demons, let their oily feel slide over her skin, and grinned into the ugly beauty. "You never could kill me. Not even when you had the gun."

He swallowed, head twisting away…

As if he could run.

She sneered, face twisting until it seemed more monster than human. "You shall scream, you absolute _moron._ You want to know who kills you? It is Evelyn Monroe who is your killer. And I shall hear you _scream."_

He obliged her well enough.

* * *

The handle of her knife felt cold and heavy in her hand, as if it were weighted with each and every one of Smith's screams. Moments before, she would have been in the middle of the kill, flying and vicious, lost in the bloodlust for his screams.

Now, she stared at the dull red blood staining the blade, and struggled to hold in her own scream.

She'd read enough popular literature to know what people would say, what the sayings were to recover from this.

_It isn't your fault, Evelyn. That you feel remorse is what makes you different._

Except that sentence seemed to make her out to be a less-than-willing participant in this mess. And she _wasn't_ different, not from those who killed. She felt remorse today, but tomorrow?

The day after?

At what point did she choose to become evil, and at what point did she become irredeemable? She had wanted to kill, and she had, and she had no regrets over killing Smith- he was honestly one of those men who would just get worse as time went on. What she regretted was the lengths she'd gone to enjoy the kill.

"A week," she whispered to herself, "and I have slept, and eaten, and killed."

God, what kind of a monster was she?

 _::The kind that realizes that she is a monster::_ Megatron answered, firmly. _::And takes care not to hurt those closest to her. I know that it hurts, Evelyn, right now- but you will feel better in the morning. There is darkness in you, and you have known it.::_

 _::I can't just walk away::_ she replied softly. Then, she let that remorse fade, the emotions blurring into just another emotion of her past. There were more important things in the world. _::But I can do this. And there are some other things we need to finish, Megatron. Like…::_

Images and memories flashed between them, fast and quick.

_::That will take some time to set up. It… you can't just threaten the world into obeying the rules of yesterday, Evelyn. It doesn't work that way. Not if you want freedom.::_

"Freedom is not the same as safety," she replied quietly. "And I want to keep my people safe. Nothing more, nothing less."

 _::This is a fool's quest::_ he told her harshly. _::We can't do this, and if we do the shadows will no longer cloak us. Threatening a general is not like killing a petty thief, Evelyn!::_

 _::A petty thief?::_ She asked wryly. _::Dennis Smith was not a petty anything, Megatron. He drew the attention of too many people in a bad way. He would have died anyways, and the death I gave him at least didn't spread to his mother in Illinois.::_

_::You still want to threaten , though.::_

_::I want to_ kill. _But there are men out there who believe that the Autobots are too much of a danger, and they are not_ wrong. _They can use those distorted facts, and Prime will never see it coming. Best to nip those dangerous ideas in the bud, no?::_

 _::Dangerous ideas::_ he mused quietly. _::Dangerous measures.::_

_::I am willing to go to that length, Megatron. Are you saying you aren't? To defend your brother and your people, you aren't willing to threaten a single man? That's…::_

He snarled. _::That is only prudent, you daft girl! Generals aren't the same as_ thiefs!::

She sighed. For all extents and purposes, he was correct. And she wanted to do it now- wanted to head to an airport, and stain her hands red with blood as she fought to keep her friends and family safe. But staying away from the Autobots for that length of time wasn't feasible. It would be a balancing act, now, between keeping her actions secret, protecting them, and keeping their trust.

Inhaling the coppery tang of blood, she closed her eyes. _::Fine. Not today. Let's go…::_

Not home. The Autobot base would never be _home._ There were too many memories in that dust, too much fear and hatred and the tiniest hint of weakness for her to be relaxed in those rooms.

 _::Let's go to the base::_ she said softly, running a finger over the serrated edge of her knife and watching the drop of blood well up.

Blood, steel and death.

Her eyes widened, and unease skittered down her spine.

Evelyn had read, months back, a short Cybertronian manuscript on their rituals. It had been a laugh, then, a _joke,_ the similarities and subtle differences between their worlds.

It was a mixture of threes that dominated their mythology, an indelible impression of the number _three_ on the species' collective psyche. Mother, father, child. Father, son, Holy Spirit. Sun, moon, stars.

Blood, steel, death.

All of which surrounded her, right then.

She had laughed when she had read it.

Megatron had not.

And, as she sat there, surrounded by a man's corpse, her own blood, and a glittering silver dagger, she felt _something_ crawl across her skin like a thousand ghostly nails.

The unease fluttering across her spine strengthened.

Gripping the knife tight enough that the impression was probably pressed forever into her bones, she turned around slowly, feeling like every cliché girl in a horror movie.

The view told her she was in no such crappy movie- a figure, made of fine particles of dust, hung out of the night sky- backlit by the moon.

A wordless howl built in the back of her throat.

And then the ghost spoke, voice scraping across the air like a thousand shards of glass. She expected that. She was almost _sure_ that that was correct.

"You dared to defy me."

What she was utterly flabbergasted by was _recognizing_ the damned being.

And, reedy and thin, and taking far too much effort for the single word, she whispered, " _Primus."_

That was all it took for him to swoop down, ash honing to gunmetal-claws.

* * *

 


End file.
